


Carving a Path

by Indig0



Series: Neighboring Kingdoms [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Badass Upgraded Connor | RK900, Battlemage Connor, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Daniel & Simon (Detroit: Become Human) are Twins, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, General Markus, Innkeeper Simon, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Queen Amanda and her two scary sons, Slow Burn, Warrior Battlemage RK900, learning to love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 13:16:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21640087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indig0/pseuds/Indig0
Summary: Medieval fantasy war AU:  Queen Amanda's forces, led by her two terrifyingly powerful sons, are striking blow after powerful blow against General Markus's resistance.  Simon runs a rather unsuccessful inn near the front lines, and when a mysterious figure shows up at his back door, he takes them in immediately and gets more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Simon
Series: Neighboring Kingdoms [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581010
Comments: 48
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Archadian_Skies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/gifts).

When Simon took over ownership of the Jericho Inn on the eastern border of the kingdom, he’d expected a lot of the soldiers to take advantage of his beds and food. Maybe after a long shift, maybe on days off…

Apparently he didn’t understand how the Resistance Army worked when he planned out his business strategy. Soldiers, travelers, and locals did occasionally stop by for a meal, but since the border was closed and a war zone didn’t make for a popular tourist destination, travelers were few and far between. And locals didn’t have a need to stay somewhere different in town. So Simon focused more on serving fresh meals, but he maintained the bedrooms and kept some hopeful signs posted just in case.

Jericho wasn’t close enough to the front lines to be in danger, so Simon’s days were largely peaceful. He kept the inn maintained, tried new recipes, and spent a lot of time talking with his neighbors.

“I’ve been thinking it would be better for business if I turned the restaurant into more of a bar,” Simon mused one day to his friend North. “Or a tavern, maybe.”

“Let me know if you need a bouncer,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “You’d get more troops probably, I see loads of them down along the canal every night. You really thinking about it?”

“…I don’t know, probably not. Not unless things get really bad financially. I’m just trying to think of different ideas. Keep my options open. I don’t know, I’m keeping my head above water, but that’s all I’m doing here. I really thought I’d get more business here.”

“Yeah, you didn’t do your research, did you?” North said sympathetically. “And it’s probably gonna get worse after what happened. You heard about that, didn’t you?”

Simon looked away and wiped at a small stain on the table. “Of course I heard,” he mumbled. “I’m not that oblivious. I know you wanted to be there to help, but I’m glad you’re safe.”

The two lapsed into silence briefly. General Markus had suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of the mage-prince Connor that had resulted in a great loss of life.

“Connor must be the most powerful mage we’ve ever faced,” Simon sighed. “I’ve never heard of anyone that strong. No one escapes from him.”

“Well he’s been training for that since he was born,” North muttered. “With the best mages in the world and every piece of… magic equipment money can buy. I don’t know what kind of shit they use. Wands, magic cloaks, unicorn spleens…”

Simon laughed. “I’m sure if we had access to all those unicorn spleens, we could do just as well!”

“Damn right!” North grinned, but only briefly before her face grew serious again. “No, but I hear his little brother’s worse. Or, better at magic I mean, but… he’s supposed to be a warrior too, merciless in combat, completely heartless. And like, a genius. And gigantic.”

“Does he have five heads and turn into a dragon at night?” Simon asked, his voice flat. North pushed him.

“Shut up, that’s just the rumors I’ve heard. For all I know, he’s a tiny idiot who’s completely incompetent at everything he does.”

Simon snorted and shook his head. “Seeing his brother and what he’s accomplished, I highly doubt that.”

“You need any help today?” North smirked.

Simon looked around at the empty room. “I think I can handle it, North. Thanks, though.” He never asked for her help. When she wasn’t busy she stayed and found something to do anyway, but today she took her leave of him. Simon finished wiping down the tables, stirred the curry, then started a big pot of thick, hearty noodles on the stove.

Prince Connor struck three more times in the next month, and Markus ended up in critical condition in the infirmary not far from Jericho. His father traveled from across the kingdom to be with him, though he was old and infirm himself. Simon brought a big basket of herb bread for all the patients and staff, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of Markus. The general was young, probably younger than Simon, and he’d quickly gained a reputation as a fierce fighter, an inspirational leader, and a creative genius. His heterochromatic eyes were bright and alert, reminding Simon of the sea and the earth all in one powerful gaze. Powerful was the word for him, he positively radiated power. Everyone who heard him speak probably fell in love with him a little. Simon wasn’t surprised that he’d rallied so many followers, that he was holding his own and succeeding more than anyone else ever had against the invading armies, despite Connor’s clear expertise.

But the enemy queen was aging, and before long she called Connor back from the front lines to train to replace her before it was too late. And then rumors of the younger brother began to surface.

They all matched what North had said – a giant of a man, silent, relentless, cold. Adept at both magic and all types of fighting. Better than his older brother, possibly more skilled than even the queen in her prime, with the strength of 200,000 ordinary soldiers. He could set a house ablaze from a mile away, he could open great gaping holes in the Earth, he could cause rivers to stop flowing entirely and block out the sun itself. Where he went he brought only death and destruction. He seemed to have no name, but was known only as Reaver. No one Simon spoke to had ever seen him in person, but he apparently killed everyone in his path without mercy or regard for their affiliation. While Connor would learn diplomacy and politics, his younger brother would have no need of that.

And then he showed up to a battle not far away, tall and pale and terrifying, and he cut down half the troops standing against him single-handedly before vanishing into a pillar of flame. 

He was out there somewhere, no one knew where. A self-enforced curfew was immediately implemented around town, and no one went outside alone. Not that that made them safe, because Reaver must be able to just appear wherever he wanted to. He could suddenly be in the armory, he could be in your grandmother’s bedroom, he could be hiding in your neighbor’s attic and kill you in the night and no one would know.

Privately, Simon thought people were going a little overboard. He was probably lurking in some abandoned tower deep in the mountains, plotting his next move. A threat, certainly, but not an immediate one. Not one who would waste time on common people going about their lives.

Simon was taking the scrap bucket out to the compost pile behind the inn one evening when he heard a noise. There was a big stray tomcat who came by now and then, and Simon called out to him softly as he dumped his bucket on the pile.

“Sorry I don’t have anything you’d be interested in right now, but if you’ll wait a minute, I cooked up the chicken livers just for you.”

There was another soft noise – it didn’t quite sound like the cat, who normally sauntered out and yowled for Simon’s immediate attention. Maybe it was a dog, they came by now and then too. Either way, he’d promised chicken and he went back inside to fetch the bits of liver he’d set aside. The warm air from the kitchen was thick with the scent of fresh bread and chicken stew, ready to serve to the dinner crowd.

“Here you go,” Simon murmured. There was no sound, and no animal showed itself. “…Are you still there? I brought you food like I said I would. Are you… new here? Don’t be shy, I won’t hurt you. Come on out.”

As he clicked his tongue softly, a shadow lengthened and straightened up. Simon immediately stopped. A tall, cloaked figure stood by the small chicken coop. Their clothes were ragged and dirty, and they clutched the corner of the coop.

“Ah – I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. I… thought you were a cat.” Simon laughed self-consciously. “What can I do for you?”

The figure’s face was obscured by a large hood, and they didn’t move much, but Simon noted the hunching of their shoulders and slight withdrawal of the rest of their body.

“It’s all right,” he said, softening. “You’re perfectly safe here. I won’t harm you. My name is Simon, I run the Jericho Inn.”

The figure drew back a little more.

“It’s… getting colder,” Simon murmured. “Have you been out here for long?”

The shoulders rose a little more.

“Come inside,” Simon coaxed. “It’s warm, and I’ve got good stew and fresh bread for dinner. I also have rooms for the night if you’d like. I can make you a very good deal, I rarely have any lodgers.”

The front door opened in the distance, and the figure took a quick step back. Simon did too.

“All right, you don’t have to come in,” he murmured. “I have to go serve customers up front – it’s just me here right now. But I’ll leave the back door unlocked, and when I get a minute I’ll set out some stew and bread for you. All right? I won’t… make you stay, or ask anything of you. I’ll have extra anyway, there haven’t been many customers lately. Just… it’ll be a cold night. And you look like you need somewhere to go.”

He turned then and went back inside without a second glance, closing the door to keep the heat in but making sure it was unlocked. Then he hurried out to the dining area and began taking orders.

Because money was tight, Simon couldn’t afford to hire anyone to help him. His brother had helped get things set up in the beginning, but then he’d left to get away from the front lines. Simon couldn’t blame him for that. Sometimes North helped out if he was really slammed when she came by, and he always gave her a free meal, but that was all he could manage. So having low-traffic days was easier to manage, but it also meant he would have to really scrape to get by. With the current paranoia about the Reaver prince out there, he would probably have to sell the inn by the end of the month. If he could find anyone to buy it.

During a brief lull, Simon ducked into the kitchen and scooped up a quick bowl of stew, cut a thick slice of bread, and slathered some butter on it. He set the food on a tray and brought it over to the back, opening the door to the chill night air. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, but a scrambling movement and a sharp inhalation near him told him that the visitor had been curled up next to the door.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you! I fixed you some food, I’ll leave it right inside the door. I – I don’t want you to freeze out here. I’ve… been in your position, I understand. Please, just come inside and eat. I’ll go back up to the front, I won’t bother you.”

The figure was watching him, though he couldn’t see their face. He did see a slight shiver. As much as he would like to go out and pull them inside to get warm, though, he knew that wouldn’t be a welcome action. He went back inside, again closing the door but not locking it. He set the food on the prep table and pulled a chair up next to it, then went back to the front.

Customers drifted in and out, always in groups. Simon listened idly to their conversations as he refilled beer and mulled wine, as the stew pot got lower. There had been more attacks on the border elsewhere, but the Reaver hadn’t been spotted at any of them. Queen Amanda’s forces seemed fiercer than ever, and there was talk of Connor returning to the field soon. More families were packing up and leaving. Simon idly doodled a FOR SALE sign as he waited for the last guests to leave. When they finally did, he locked up and did a cursory clean-up of the dining area. He’d do a more thorough job in the morning. Silently, he opened the door to the kitchen and stepped through.

There was a man slumped over the table. He stirred briefly when Simon came in, but didn’t wake. His dark cloak was ragged and dirty, but the hood was pulled down now to reveal mussed brown hair and a pale face. His forehead was lined with concern even in his sleep, his cheeks looked gaunt, and the dark smudges under his eyes belied deep exhaustion. The food was gone.

Simon slipped silently across the room to a little linen closet and pulled out a rather old quilt. It was stained but clean, and covered in a blue and pink pinwheel pattern. He unfurled it carefully and crept over to drape it over the stranger’s shoulders.

The second the quilt touched the man, Simon found himself flipped around and slammed on the table, the wind knocked out of him. He let out a strangled cry, and the iron grip holding him down suddenly released. He turned to look at the tall, pale stranger whose wild gray eyes darted around the room. The quilt had fallen to the ground, and one heavy leather boot crushed a corner of it into the flagstone floor, and the stranger’s eyes suddenly met his and narrowed. A gaze like cold steel pinned Simon in place, and he waited for the attack that must be coming.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon helps his mysterious guest as much as he's able to, and Reaver assesses his situation.

“Easy, easy,” Simon murmured softly, and the tall stranger flinched. He backed up a step and almost fell, barely catching himself on the counter. Were those crackling sparks under his hands?

“You’re hurt,” the innkeeper said, holding out his hands to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry I scared you, I just wanted to keep you warm. Will you let me take a look at your injury? I have decent healing skills.”

Icy eyes watched him, but the stranger didn’t move. Definitely no sparks. Simon took a slow step to the side, and the taller man tensed even more if that was possible.

“Okay, I’m just getting supplies to deal with your leg. I need to find out what’s wrong – I assume it hurts?”

The man’s face didn’t shift at all.

“Is it… does it feel broken?”

Still no response.

“You… do you understand me?” Simon asked a little slower. The two watched each other. Simon sighed. “…Okay, we’ll just… go slow, and… hope. I want to help you. You’re safe here. Can you… sit down?” He gestured at the stool by the counter.

The man’s eyes flicked to it only briefly.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to get my first aid supplies and I’ll be back in just a minute. Okay? You won’t be harmed. Please, sit down.” He gestured again, and left the room exhaling deeply. Whoever this man was, he was afraid. And he was hurt. And he might not understand a word Simon was saying.

And he was probably an enemy soldier.

When Simon came back with his box of bandages and salves, the man was leaning heavily on the counter, his head down.

“Please sit down,” Simon murmured again, pulling the chair over. The man quickly straightened up, his face clearly strained. “Please. Rest and let me take a look.” He gestured again.

The tall man tried to take a step back, but put too much weight on his bad leg and it collapsed under him. He hissed in pain, and without thinking, Simon dove forward to catch him. He grabbed the man’s elbow and slid an arm quickly around his waist.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Simon murmured, even as a large hand clamped around his arm uncomfortably tight and oddly cold. “I’ve got you. Just sit down. Please?”

He looked up into hard gray eyes, and the two stared at each other for a moment.

“I know it hurts,” Simon said gently. “I’m going to try to help. I do have just a touch of healing magic, but it’s not very strong or reliable, so… no promises, but I’ll do what I can. Then you can rest here as long as you need to, and… and we’ll go from there, okay? I’m going to help you. Just please sit down.”

A second after he finished speaking, the gray eyes flicked to the chair and the man shifted to sink into it. His legs were trembling.

“There you go, that’s it. That’s better. You’re okay.” Simon rubbed at the man’s back and arm as he babbled words of encouragement, and he seemed to warm under Simon’s touch. “Just sit for a minute and breathe, and warm up. You’re going to be okay.”

Slowly, gradually, the man relaxed his grip. His sharp eyes remained on Simon as he worked, and to try to reassure and distract him, Simon kept talking as he worked.

“Like I said, I’m Simon. I run this place and… do everything. It’s much bigger than I need, and business isn’t great, I’m kind of in over my head. I’ve been thinking of trading in for a small restaurant. Brace yourself, I’m going to take a look. And – oh, okay, take a deep breath – good, nice and slow. You do understand me, don’t you? Sorry, no, it’s okay. Deep breath, and let it out slowly. …Oh… I… How have you been standing on this? I mean – look at that break, it’s almost – no, sorry, sorry. Um. Wow. I guess… I can try to set it. I’ve seen it done, I’ve done it a few times on animals. It would be better if a doctor looked at it.”

The man’s face darkened and he pulled back.

“Right, okay, no doctors. I can try, just… it may not come out perfect. And it’s going to hurt a lot. And you’ll need to not use it at all for a few weeks.” Simon looked around. “Let’s… get you up in a room before I get started, so you don’t have to move afterwards.”

His frown deepened, and he patted his pockets and held out an open hand.

“They’re just sitting empty anyway, it’s not like I’ll lose money,” Simon sighed. “Tell you what, if all the other rooms fill up and I have to send someone away, I’ll charge you for that night. Otherwise, it’s not important.” Simon straightened up and offered his arm with a little smile. “Here, stand up and lean on me, and I’ll help you upstairs.”

The tall man stared at him blankly for a long moment, then grabbed the counter and slowly pulled himself up. When he continued to lean away, Simon edged a little closer and slid an arm cautiously around him. He was cold as stone They both stood stiff and still for a second.

“All right, don’t put any weight on that ankle,” Simon murmured, taking a slow step forward. “I’ll pull out some extra blankets for you.” The two made their way haltingly across the room and up the stairs with a painful slowness. The stranger was considerably taller and heavier than Simon, and while he was clearly trying to carry his own weight it became increasingly difficult.

“Here, I’ll put you in the room right at the top of the stairs. Mine’s right next door over there, so you can just yell if you need anything.” Simon paused. He’d heard a couple soft noises from the man’s throat, but he hadn’t said a word. “Do you… speak?”

The gray eyes were stormy, and glanced away.

“That’s okay, I’ll find you a bell or something, in case you need me. …Okay, hold on.” He balanced the taller man next to him while he threw back the covers. “Here, just sit down… there you go… Now turn and lie back, I’ll help you get your legs up. Try to relax. Um – here.” Once the man was settled, Simon went and got two rolled up towels. “You can squeeze those when it hurts. If it helps, you can bite them too. If you need to scream that’s okay – it’s going to hurt a lot. Just remember to keep breathing. All right?”

Cold gray eyes stared at him, but he assumed the man understood. Simon took a deep breath.

“Okay, so I’m sure you’ve been walking on this for a while, that probably knocked it out of place as much as the original injury. Um – I won’t poke too much at it, it’s swollen enough that I wouldn’t feel anything anyway. But I can…” He trailed off for a moment, grimacing as he looked down at the swollen, bruised leg. It was lumpy in ways a leg shouldn’t be. Simon sighed. “Okay, I’m definitely going to need to set it. The best way to do that is to… pull your foot as far as I can, and then let it snap back into place where it should be. I’ve done this before for dogs, it’s gone well. It’s – you understand how much this is going to hurt?”

The man nodded once, his eyes never leaving Simon.

“Okay. Okay, just brace yourself. Don’t move. I’ll make this as quick as possible. Ah, if you want… I have some whiskey downstairs. Or some really good mead from last year. It’s not ideal, but it might help with the pain.” He glanced up. 

The other man shook his head firmly.

“…I’m sorry.”

Simon started by taking off the boot, which was heavy and of higher quality than he’d seen in a long time. He took off the other boot as well, and set them by the foot of the bed. Then he lightly touched the foot to be sure it wasn’t damaged. It didn’t seem to be. Still the man watched him.

“Okay. Deep breath.” Simon glanced up with a small smile, then grasped the foot firmly and pulled. …Human limbs were much thicker and stronger than dogs’, and this one was better-muscled than any he’d felt before. Not that he went around feeling legs, but that made it harder to pull. Still, after realizing the strength he’d need for this, he braced and made a second try. With a firm yank he pulled the lower part of the leg and felt an unnatural grinding. The man inhaled sharply, his eyes squeezed shut, bracing himself as far back as he could. Praying it was a clean break, Simon let go. With another sickening scrape, the leg popped back into place.

A faint whimper was all that emerged in response, though the man was incredibly pale and his whole body was taut as a bowstring. There was an odd shimmer around his torso that Simon couldn’t identify.

“All right, the worst part’s over,” Simon murmured, breathing hard. “Breathe. Take a breath, you’ll be okay. I’ll make you a strong willow tea to take the edge off the pain. Just breathe. You did great.” He smiled and got up to run downstairs.

He hadn’t screamed, he hadn’t cried, he’d kept perfectly still. He’d barely made a sound. What kind of person didn’t express extreme pain, even a little? Simon boiled water and steeped a strong tea, adding enough honey to mask the bitter taste. When he came back up, the man was curled in on himself, squeezing and pressing his face into the towels he’d been given.

“Hey, here we go,” Simon murmured, coming over to sit by the bed and set the cup down on the nightstand. “Here, drink this before I do anything else. That was pretty awful, you deserve a break. It’s still hot, but I put a lot of honey in it. Hope you like sweet things.” He smiled apologetically.

The man didn’t move a muscle.

“Do you need help sitting up?” Simon asked gently. When he didn’t get an answer, he touched the man’s shoulder. A spark of what might have been super-charged static electricity made him snap back quickly. “Sorry. Sorry, I won’t –“

Bloodshot gray eyes popped open and his mouth opened a bit, then shut again when he looked away.

“Don’t worry. You’ve had a long night, but it’s going to get better from here. Drink your tea, it’ll help.” He paused. “Rest is probably the best thing right now. Sleep as much as you can, and I’ll come back and bring you something to eat in the morning. I can wrap and splint your leg then too, just try not to move it tonight. It’s too late to get it before it swells.” Simon smiled, backing away to the door. It might have been his imagination, but he thought the gray eyes didn’t seem quite so cold. Probably just exhaustion.

Reaver listened to Simon’s footsteps – going back downstairs, coming up again, and going to the room next to his. His mind was in blinding-sharp focus, more than usual due to the pain in his leg. He glanced over to the clay mug steaming next to him.

An important rule of survival was to never accept food or drink that you hadn’t at least seen prepared. He was surrounded by enemies here, and could trust these people even less than those back home.

On the other hand, pain was overpowering him as much as exhaustion and hunger at this point. He took stock of what he knew of Simon.

His bone-setting technique was a bit crude, but certainly effective. And he’d said his own powers were weak, but he’d absolutely used them to ensure the bone set correctly. He was soft-spoken, but talked quite a bit when he was nervous or uncertain. It would be naïve to assume that he meant this to be comforting, but… it had helped to have something else to focus on.

The steam Reaver breathed in was sweet with a bitter undertone. He recognized the scent, though he’d never had willowbark with honey before. He assumed that wouldn’t lessen its efficacy. It might mask other compounds, though…

Of course, he had devoured the entire bowl of chicken stew and a large piece of bread and butter with no ill effects… so far. And it might just have been the fact that he hadn’t eaten in days, but it was perhaps the best thing he’d ever tasted in his life. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he could recognize that was a result of not sleeping more than a few minutes here and there in days. It had been happening more often in the past 24 hours. And honestly, at that point he was too hungry and tired to care.

Did he care now? That was the question. He wasn’t certain. The idea of just… giving up still unsettled him. The tea wouldn’t even take away very much of the pain. Would it be worth the risk?

His throbbing ankle told him it would.

As he sipped the cooling tea, it occurred to Reaver that Simon might not know who he was. It could all be an elaborate act, of course. Some of it had to be, that just wasn’t the way real people acted. But if Simon thought him a simple traveler, he would have… less reason to poison him. Or imprison him at his weakest moment. Or call in Markus’s strongest warriors to kill him in his sleep. He’d had that chance, and instead he’d tried to… put a blanket on Reaver. He wasn’t sure how to interpret that, even aside from the fact that this building was plenty warm already. And when he’d been inadvertently shocked, he’d pulled away of course, but… that was all.

In the next room, the mattress creaked slightly as Simon lay down. When he fell asleep, Reaver could…

Could what? Slit his throat? Escape from the warm, comfortable room he’d been given? On his very broken leg? With nowhere else to go, with Amanda’s forces hunting him? Connor wasn’t hunting him, or he was certain he would have been found already. He’d just have to do his best to hide his identity. Luckily he wasn’t a very public figure, so his appearance wasn’t well-known. Connor was, but his brown eyes were easily recognizable. As long as he kept his mouth shut to hide his accent and laid low, he might be able to survive this.

With nothing else to do, Reaver finished his tea and set the cup back on the nightstand. He shifted a bit in the bed, pulling the blankets up to his nose. He’d have to take his new situation one day at a time, and just… be ready for whatever came at him. As usual. He closed his eyes and honed in on the nearest sounds: The wind blowing outside, a mouse gnawing on something, and Simon’s breathing, gradually evening out, slowing down, softening… The younger son of the empire slipped once more out of consciousness, warm and full and slightly less painful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Reaver both have their suspicions about each other, but that won't stop Simon from taking care of his guest. Reaver experiences perhaps the strangest day of his life, and picks up a new name to use.

Simon looked in on his guest on his way downstairs – he’d thrown off the blankets in the night and lay half-covered, face slack with sleep. Simon silently closed the door and went down to start the day.

Once he’d cleaned the dining room and kitchen, he headed out to the market. A roast would be good today, with some root vegetables.

There had been a few more attacks much farther north, but nothing of note. A handful of people in the market were talking about leaving town, but that wasn’t unusual. Simon ran into North walking back.

“They say we’re due for an attack any time now,” she murmured, leaning close as they walked.

“Who says that?”

“Markus and Josh. And I mean, it makes sense, with them being here.”

“I guess so.” He frowned. “…When was the last attack around here?”

“Last month, I guess. When Markus got hurt.”

Simon nodded slowly. The stranger couldn’t have been hanging around that long. …But he also couldn’t have gotten far with such a badly-broken leg.

“You know they won’t get this far,” North said, misinterpreting his pensive silence. “They never do. Not that we’ve got enough resources or… strategic location that they’d make the effort.”

“Probably not.”

“Need any help today?”

“Probably not.” Simon paused, shifting his grip on his groceries. “I, um… I found someone injured last night, out behind the inn.”

North looked up. “How bad?”

“Pretty bad, I had to set his ankle. He hasn’t spoken, but… I don’t know, he’s… hiding something. He’s scared, and he’s… very strong.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” North frowned, crossing her arms. “You know I’ll kick him right in the broken leg.”

“I know,” Simon chuckled. “He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t make a sound when I set his bones, it was… unsettling. Who doesn’t scream when they’re in that kind of pain?”

North stared at him thoughtfully. “…You think he’s a spy or something.”

“Well – I don’t know about a spy, but –“

“I hear they haven’t seen the Reaver in a while, what if you took in a complete monster?”

Simon snorted. “Well he also took steps to not hurt me. I think he’s just… not used to letting his guard down in any way. He doesn’t seem like a monster.”

“Your judgment isn’t great,” North said dismissively. “Want me to go check him out for you?”

“No! North, I don’t think –“ he paused. “I don’t think… he’s a danger to me. And I’ll be careful.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “…When Jericho burns down with you in it, I’ll remember that. You’re an idiot.”

“I don’t think he wants to hurt me,” Simon insisted, waving her off.

“Make sure he doesn’t,” North muttered. “And if you need help, Simon, come get me. Understand?”

“I understand!” He rolled his eyes. “I can defend myself just as well as you can, I’m just not as aggressive about it.”

“…Meaning someone more aggressive would overpower you.” She elbowed him lightly. “Don’t die. I’d miss you.”

“I won’t.”

Simon set the food to roast slowly in the oven, then gathered bandage material and cut up an apple while he made some scrambled eggs and brewed tea. He brought two plates upstairs, with the bandages under his arm. He knocked softly and opened the door.

The stranger was sitting up, hair wild and still pale, but looking much better-rested than before.

“Good morning!” Simon smiled. “Did you sleep well? I brought you some breakfast.” He let the bag drop to the floor next to the chair as he sat down, and handed the other man one of the plates and setting down another mug of tea. The stranger cautiously took it.

“I’m making roast beef with some root vegetables for dinner tonight, it should take a while,” Simon explained, eating slowly. “If you have any requests for tomorrow, let me know. I tend to cycle through different meats and try to do something different every time.”

The other man eyed him cautiously, tasting the eggs delicately before devouring them. Simon grinned.

“You look better today! Mm, I’ve been thinking, can you write?” He would be shocked if the man couldn’t.

Stormy gray eyes regarded him cautiously, and he nodded once.

“Do you… could you write your name?”

His face closed over and he looked a bit to the side of Simon.

“Ah – just so I have something to call you. It doesn’t even have to be your real name, just… something to use while you’re here?” He pulled a pad of paper and a pencil from the drawer of the nightstand.

The man stared at the paper for a long moment.

“Think about it,” Simon said, taking the empty dishes away. “Are you ready for me to splint that leg?”

Again, there was no screaming or crying and he held himself perfectly still while Simon wrapped multiple layers of bandaging around the broken ankle, well above and below the injury.

“Have you ever broken a bone before?” Simon murmured.

A stiff nod answered him.

“So you know it’ll take a while to heal. And it’s important that you keep off it and take it easy as much as you can. Got it?” Simon tied off the end and looked up. “It just needs a little support, right? Support and rest, and you’ll be fine. And I’ll help you. Okay?” He grinned.

The taller man was staring openly now, as if Simon had grown another head. Simon patted the blankets next to him.

“I won’t have a lot to do until I start getting ready to open, so I’ll be in and out. I’m around if you need me, but I don’t want to smother you. And I was thinking, let me bring you some books so you aren’t bored out of your mind. I’m not sure what you like, but… something’s better than nothing, right?”

Reaver stared at him as he left the room.

He wasn’t sure what to make of Simon. He knew for a fact that not everyone here was like this. It seemed unlikely that it was a matter of class either, because in more recent days he had been accosted, or at the very least ignored, by people from all walks of life.

Simon returned with a stack of books and a box, and set them down. “Most of these have been sitting around for a while – some of them are ones my brother left here. But you’re welcome to whatever suits you.” He set the books down, then opened the box. “I also found a few games and things. Um – it’s actually a box of my and Daniel’s old stuff. Let’s see… There’s mancala, chess, checkers, a bag of marbles, some smooth rocks, a few wooden animals…” He hesitated, and Reaver watched him patiently. “Do you want to play a game for a while? Or if you’d rather rest on your own, I understand.”

The taller man considered for a moment, then poked around carefully in the box. He fingered the cloth bag of marbles and the wooden animals, but finally pulled out the chess pieces and board.

“Ah, good choice! I used to play with my brother a lot, but it’s been a while.” He flashed a grin. “I usually won, but I doubt you have anything to worry about at this point. You’ve played before, I take it?”

Reaver’s only response was to set up the board swiftly, and gesture for Simon to choose a color.

His tutor Mr. Kamski had told him you could learn a lot about an opponent by how they played chess. He realized he’d been wrong in assuming that his host possessed a lesser intellect. Right away he saw that Simon was a defensive player, cautious even. He planned a few moves ahead, preferring to lay traps than lead a charge. Reaver was more in practice, but this wasn’t the kind of opponent he was used to and it threw him off. He won, but he’d lost most of his pieces in the process.

“Nice job!” Simon grinned, seemingly unbothered by his defeat. “You play a lot?”

Reaver shrugged modestly. Technically he shouldn’t be answering any questions, or even interacting with anyone here, but he didn’t see the harm in responding to simple questions. The amount of time he spent playing games was inconsequential. It had been… enjoyable. He’d faced quite a few opponents, but his biggest accomplishment was winning against his older brother. Connor was very good, but never quite as ruthless, and that described the two of them in general.

“Do you want to play again, or take a break for a while?” Simon asked. Reaver wasn’t always good at reading emotions, but he was fairly sure Simon wouldn’t mind either way. And the joy in his face was absolutely unmistakable when Reaver pulled out the mancala board instead.

They played mancala and checkers, then looked at the marbles. Reaver learned a great deal about Simon and the people who mattered to him. His twin brother, Daniel, had moved away, and Simon confessed that he was thinking more and more that he should have accompanied him. His best friend North had a short temper and a quick wit, and visited frequently. He thought very highly of General Markus and his advisor Josh, but hadn’t spoken to them much. He worried that he was going to have to sell the inn and just open a tavern, which Reaver agreed would be a wise financial move, but confessed that he was more invested in the inn than the restaurant side of the business. He worried a lot, about losing his livelihood, never seeing his brother again, letting his friends down…

“And the war isn’t helping things,” he sighed, glancing out the window. “We’ve been pretty lucky here for a while, but rumor has it we’re likely to get an attack soon. Not to mention, the Reaver hasn’t been seen anywhere lately. He must be planning something.”

Reaver stared across the room through all this, the animation of the last couple hours giving way again to an expressionless, guarded expression. Simon wasn’t stupid. How much did he know? How much had he guessed?

It occurred to him as Simon moved on to telling a story about his brother that he would need to kill him. The thought made his heart twist in an odd way.

…But if he killed Simon now, he wouldn’t be able to get away fast. He needed to recover, and then… then he’d do what had to be done.

They had a light lunch together in the afternoon, then Simon went downstairs for a while to prepare for the dinner crowd. He made more tea and made sure his guest was comfortable. He offered an old, stretched-out sweater for him to change into. He brought warm water and a cloth for the other man to clean himself up a bit, and left him to do so. 

The sweater was a bit tight, but at least it was clean. Reaver rubbed the soft wool between his fingers idly as he sipped the willowbark tea, sweetened with honey and a bit of ginger this time. He took a look through the stack of books, and began reading a cookbook, but dozed on and off as he did so. He didn’t feel up to focusing on anything more involved anyway, and that… was a strange admission. Something he shouldn’t be admitting to at all. Something that shouldn’t be true. He’d been injured before, but he was still alive because he pushed through it and continued to complete his missions.

As the sun lowered and clouds gathered outside, the noise downstairs began to pick up. With his heightened senses, Reaver could hear customers coming in. He closed his eyes and listened to Simon greeting each of them by name and asking after their homes, families, jobs… Clinking dishes and laughing, and the scent of roasted meat and vegetables wafted up, and Reaver was reminded of meals back in the tower, where laughing was rare, smiling was frowned upon, and clinking dishes were unbecoming of princes. Reaver had gotten off easy, but their mother had been stricter with Connor, as the eldest.

Simon’s footsteps hurried up the stairs, and Reaver tensed. There was a soft knock, and Simon opened the door, letting in a wave of good smells.

“I brought you a plate – do you want to light a lamp? You don’t have to sit here in the dark.” He grinned and set the plate down, then lit the oil lamp by the bed. “Are you doing okay up here?”

Reaver nodded. The flickering light highlighted creases and wrinkles in Simon’s face. There were lines of wear, of worry, of weariness. But there were lines that made his face look… happy as well. As if he was used to smiling a lot. And based on the past twenty hours, he was.

“Can I get you anything else?”

He shook his head. Many had pleaded for mercy, tried to bargain with him, but Simon didn’t seem afraid. He might be a very good actor, but Reaver didn’t detect any increase in his bloodflow or respiration. And since he wasn’t an idiot and didn’t seem to be in possession of superior powers, he clearly didn’t have any idea who he’d taken into his business and his home.

“Did you think of a name yet? I’ve just been thinking of you as… a guest or something.”

Reaver stared at him and shook his head briefly.

“That’s all right. …I’ve got a decent crowd tonight, roast beef’s popular. I’ll be back later.” Simon grinned, both tired and happy, and Reaver didn’t know what to make of that. Or rather, he understood why a busy night would make Simon feel that way, but he wasn’t sure why it affected _him_ the way it did. A warm sort of tightness in his chest, and he saw the worn callouses on Simon’s hands. A few small scars that were most likely caused by kitchen accidents. Very different than his own callouses and scars. A strange, morbid impulse urged him to show his own hands in comparison, large and hard and the end of many lives, but he ignored it and watched as Simon left.

It… would have been preferable for him to stay.

That was a stupid thought, and Reaver immediately chastised himself for it. Simon had already done all he could do to help, and had to support his own livelihood. Preparing and serving food, and… trying to get people to rent out rooms for the night. It wouldn’t have benefitted either of them for him to stay here. Nor would it benefit anyone if Reaver were in any shape to go downstairs. There was nothing of use down there, and he had nothing to offer in the kitchen. It seemed that the patrons were generally well-behaved, so there was no need to protect the property.

Reaver picked up the pad of paper and pencil, and stared at them blankly. A false name would be helpful, actually. It could be anything, there was no need to hesitate. It didn’t have to mean anything.

It didn’t have to be like his real name.

He felt a flare of anger at the twisting sensation that thought brought to his stomach. Connor, the firstborn, the future king, had been given a name, but Reaver was barely more than a description. A description of… the cause of massacres. He looked around for inspiration and his eyes fell on the chess set. He certainly wasn’t the king or queen, but…

The rook, lurking in the corners, waiting until the end of the game to mow down any opponent in its path… it was fitting. He was more powerful than the pawns, and certainly couldn’t claim any similarity to the knight or bishop.

When Simon came back later that night, the visitor was flipping through the cookbook again. The pad of paper caught his eye, and he stepped closer to read the neat handwriting.

“…Rook?” Simon smiled. Obviously not the man’s real name, but he would gladly use it. “I like it. The defender, always certain of where they’re going, protecting their end of the board… I can see that in you.”

Rook’s gray eyes turned up to him, and there was a moment of confused vulnerability that was so brief, Simon thought he might have imagined it.

“Well it’s good to meet you, Rook.” Simon offered his hand out of habit, and confusion flickered over the other man’s face again. “I’ll be up again after I clean up, but get to sleep if you’re tired.”

Reaver – Rook now – watched Simon go again. He must know – maybe not exactly who he was, but he must have some idea. He couldn’t say something like that for no reason. Rook would have to –

Actually… he wouldn’t. Maybe not. He wasn’t a prisoner here, he was an unknown fugitive. Maybe he could just… keep an eye on things, and see if Simon took any action. He could absolutely kill the man, burn down the inn, strip the flesh from the bones of any attackers without standing up. If he needed to. But until that point… he hadn’t come this far just to sink back into what he left behind. For now, he could rest, recover… and watch, to see what he could learn. When Simon returned one last time, he pretended to be asleep. Simon looked in briefly, murmured a soft ‘goodnight,’ and closed the door softly, leaving Rook alone in the dark with his thoughts for the rest of the long night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rook settles in and gets to know Simon better as he begins to heal, and Simon manages to get to know Rook a little too. Simon talks about what he wants, and Rook gets to meet a cat.  
Of course it can't last, and the truth can't stay hidden forever.

Rook spent most of his time lying in bed, though after a few days he started moving slowly about the room with the help of a crutch Simon borrowed from the infirmary. Simon argued that it was too soon, but Rook knew his body and how he healed. He knew better than to push himself too far when he didn’t have to.

Simon still wasn’t happy, but he didn’t stop Rook. He did insist on changing the bandages regularly, wrapping tighter or looser based on the swelling. Rook was capable of doing that himself as well, but Simon swatted his hands away like a child when he tried. His outraged glare was ignored as Simon worked with a smile, and… he was surprised to realize that he wasn’t actually angry. Unsure how he _did_ feel about it, he slowly reached down again.

“I’m almost finished, stop that,” Simon chuckled, pushing his hands away. He pushed back and went for the bandage, and Simon grabbed his hand, gentle but firm, and brought it up, squeezing it. “Give me a minute, you’re as bad as a kitten!”

Rook’s eyes widened and he drew back in sheer shock. Simon let go and took the opportunity to finish the bandage, then sat back.

“I know you can do it, but you know I can get a better angle on it.” Simon flashed him a grin. “Just because you _can_ do everything doesn’t mean you have to.”

Simon probably knew where he came from, he knew he had some magical powers, and he must suspect that he’d been involved in fighting at some point.

And yet he compared him to a kitten.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when you’re more mobile?” Simon asked, still smiling as he put away the supplies.

Rook regarded him thoughtfully.

“I don’t know how long you want to stick around, but… there are some really pretty parts of town you might like to see. Out west there are some bigger houses with gardens and statues and everything… Some have animals, too. Mostly beautiful horses that are absolutely better cared-for than any child in these parts.” Simon covered a laugh, his eyes lighting up. “Then there’s a nice park up north – I haven’t been in a while, but it’s got beautiful flowers, and these massive trees that you can climb up in, and it’s like a whole different world.”

Rook hesitated, then picked up the paper and pencil. He didn’t write much to Simon, but more and more he found looks and gestures inadequate for his needs. ‘You like green spaces,’ he wrote.

Simon tilted his head to look at it. “...I don’t think I’ve heard it phrased that way, but yes, definitely. Do you?”

He nodded after just a brief hesitation. Questions like that were so subjective, they didn’t matter… but Simon asked a lot of them, and he was having to stretch his range of thinking.

“I used to have big plans for this place – I was going to expand the herb garden out back into a vegetable garden, and get more chickens for the coop, maybe a goat or even a cow… It’s not in a great location for too much, but there’s space that I could use. Even if I had the income to buy and maintain that, though…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know, I… know I need to look for something else more than I am, and I need to do it soon, but… this place was such a great opportunity, and I hate to give it up. Even though it’s basically a sinking ship I’m going down with.”

Rook frowned, leaning in a bit and picking up the paper and pencil again. ‘What kind of place are you looking for?’

Simon sighed, settling on the bed near Rook. “I don’t know, I’m trying to be practical. People like my cooking… and I had thought the troops might come by more, but they mostly go to the taverns around the canal. Something like that would be more successful.”

That wasn’t a satisfying answer, and Rook stared at him for a long moment. Then he slowly crossed out the latter half of the sentence and corrected himself. ‘What kind of place do you want?’

Simon blinked. “Well… I guess I’d rather be a little farther out. Near… green spaces, like you said. I like serving food, but… I really like the idea of people stopping on their travels, having a restful night, a safe place to stay…” He shrugged. “But we don’t get a lot of travelers here right now. I’ve thought about moving out of town – Daniel’s always saying I should. I’m kind of attached, though… I know everyone here, I have friends…” He glanced up. “Are you… on your way somewhere?”

Rook shrugged, looking aside.

“I don’t really know either,” the blonde murmured, his shoulders drooping a bit. Rook wasn’t sure what to do about that, or why he felt the need to do anything. It wasn’t his problem. He had no expertise in the matter.

Simon brightened up again. “Do you like animals?”

Rook shrugged again. He had no feelings on them either way. They were useful for food and labor.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He got up and ran down the stairs. Rook listened to his footsteps leave the building and go down the street a bit. After a while he came back, a bit slower now. He was whispering something, and Rook identified soft reassurances as he got closer. When he came back in, he was cradling something orange and squirmy. He closed the door behind him.

“Okay – This is Pancake, I borrowed him from North, I can’t keep him long. Do you like cats?”

Rook stared. Cats… were helpful for keeping down the vermin in storage areas. They served no other purpose. They yowled and fought and slunk around.

This one slipped out of Simon’s grasp to land on the bed, and shook itself with a little “Mrrt!” noise. It carried itself with confidence, and its fur was soft and glossy.

“There you go, it’s okay,” Simon murmured. “This is Rook, he’s nice.” He glanced up. “You okay?”

Rook blinked, then belatedly nodded.

“Hold out your hand with the fingers curled a little so he can sniff you.”

Hesitantly, he did so. The cat sniffed around the bed for a moment ignoring him, but then he came straight up and took his time sniffing the hand thoroughly. It suddenly rubbed its face against his hand, and he felt a tooth and smooth gums slide over his fingers. He inhaled sharply.

Simon laughed as the cat rubbed him again. “He’s accepted you, and that’s how he says you’re his now. …Not that he’d stay here, or follow you home. But that’s what cats do when they like you.”

Pancake turned around and rubbed Simon, then the bed post, then Rook’s foot through the covers before jumping down to explore the room. Slowly Rook lowered his hand, staring at the animal.

“Not used to cats?” Simon asked sympathetically.

He shook his head.

“Do you like it?”

He tilted his head, considering. The cat was clean and graceful. It was as confident as the queen, but… warm and curious. It jumped up on the bed again and rubbed its whole body against him, the tail quirking up to his chin. It was so soft, it made him shiver. He glanced up at Simon uncertainly.

“He likes you,” he said softly, with a warm smile.

Rook offered his hand again and the cat rubbed on it, then butted its head into him.

“He’s asking you to pet him – if you want to, you can.”

He frowned slightly and stiffly ran a curved hand over the cat’s head. Simon laughed.

“You don’t have to be so careful. Watch.” He leaned across Rook and stroked the cat from head to tail, then scratched at the base of the tail making the rump rise up, then rubbed under the chin. A loud rumbling came from the cat, and it started stepping lightly up and down in place, the claws extending and retracting just slightly as it did.

Timidly, Rook tried petting the cat’s back, then rubbing behind the ears, running his hands all over the cat when it seemed to approve.

“See? He loves it! Listen to that purr!” Simon grinned, leaning in to rub under the chin. The cat seemed to exude happiness, and Rook leaned closer. Pancake reared up to bump his chin with the top of his head, and Rook’s heart swelled.

“You look so different when you smile,” Simon blurted out. “Like your whole face is glowing.”

Rook looked up, startled. He hadn’t realized he’d been smiling, but… he could still feel it tugging at his lips.

“Sorry.” Simon reddened a little and looked away with a self-conscious laugh.

…It wasn’t the same for him.

Rook wasn’t sure how he changed when he smiled, but when Simon smiled… his eyes crinkled and gleamed. It was… well, pleasant to look at was an understatement, but Rook wasn’t sure how to express the warmth it held. It was always there in his face, though. Even when he was exhausted, when he was busy, when he was annoyed with a customer or worried about the course of his future. Somewhere in his eyes lay that warmth. Could he feel it too? Was it the same as that soft sort of peace that he felt now and then here?

They petted and played with the cat for a while, and when Simon took him away, the room seemed colder and less colorful.

It was a clear night, just past midnight about two weeks after he’d arrived, when Rook came awake. He looked out the window and lay still, listening.

The Eastern Empire was setting fires.

Slowly, he hobbled over to the window. No one in sight, but he could smell the smoke and hear the distant pounding footsteps.

All kinds of scenarios sprang to mind, but he had to remind himself that he had no obligations here. He had no attachment to this land, he’d only meant to pass through on his way… somewhere. Away. Just away. He certainly didn’t need to attract any attention to himself. And there were already outraged shouts, rushing footsteps of the opposition, cries for water. There would be damage, but an alarm had already been raised. There was no need for him to act.

As he watched, a line of shapes moved through the shadows. They paused, then crossed the street, closer and closer. Jericho was a large building, and older. It would not only burn easily, but it would spread, and it would draw attention.

The shadows crept around to the back of the building, and Rook hobbled down to the bathroom at the end of the hall. The invaders hadn’t wasted any time, and by the time he had opened the window the compost pile and the bales of straw next to the chicken coop had been lit.

There were flashy ways of putting out fires, but they were completely unnecessary. Rook concentrated and created a bubble of space around each blaze, removing the oxygen and snuffing the fires out immediately.

There was concerned mumbling below, and the dark figures looked around.

“Rook?”

He stiffened and turned. Simon was standing in the doorway, sleepy but awake.

“Are you okay?”

He gave a terse nod and waved Simon away, but the smaller man approached him.

“What’s going on? I smell smoke.”

A faint sound from below caught his attention, and Rook turned away from Simon to look outside. A few of the invaders were at the back door now, and one was trying the kitchen window. Rook made an irritated flicking gesture, and they were all thrown back hard. None of them cried out, but they gasped and tried to regain their breath.

“What are – shit,” Simon breathed, looking out next to Rook. “Go back to your room and lock the door,” he commanded, then turned and pounded down the stairs.

Rook frowned and looked back out the window. The intruders were getting up, and a few of their faces turned up to the window. What Simon thought he could do alone against the highly trained Eastern Army was questionable. But a moment later he burst out the back door brandishing a hooked fire poker, of all things.

_”Get away from my house! Get out! Attack, help!”_ Simon shouted into the quiet night as he lunged forward. He caught one of the figures in the arm with the end of the poker, and the dark shape drew back.

It was a crude method of fighting and the precise training wasn’t there, but Rook was impressed at its effectiveness. Simon knew the terrain, and knocked one more assailant back before they regrouped and closed in on him, weapons drawn.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t meant to be fair. Six trained soldiers against a failing innkeeper who liked plants and cats and games? Who swatted and laughed at perhaps the most powerful warrior in this part of the world, and called him a kitten?

Unacceptable.

Simon swung out at the intruders, trying to hold them back, but he could also see that he was outmatched. He continued to call for help at the top of his lungs, and that was his only hope for surviving this. He didn’t expect the soldiers to suddenly drop their swords and clutch their hands to their chests, but he didn’t hesitate to strike out again, and this time he hit about half of them, though not very hard.

“Reaver!” one of them called as he stared up at the building, staggering back. The others froze and looked up, and he wasn’t able to step away from the window quickly enough. They all saw him before Simon knocked one in the head.

“_OUT!_” Simon roared, surprising all of them. There was shouting nearby, and they ran, dragging their injured comrade who was struggling to walk.

As Simon’s neighbors ran up to make sure everything was all right, to assure him that the local troops were on their way, Reaver stumbled back through the dark hallway. The odd spell of the last two weeks was broken, he had to flee. There were too many people out in the streets right now, but he was trapped, he should never have let Simon take him up here. It would take too long to get down the stairs. He couldn’t make it out a window in his condition. He could feel the crackling coursing through his veins, sparking at his temples, the wild panic trying to escape, he fought to draw in a breath –

“Where are you going?”

He jumped and fell, grabbing the wall halfway down and feeling it crumbled a little under his grip. Simon stood at the top of the stairs, watching him in the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Rook sit down for a long-overdue talk, to get things out in the open.  
After that, they decide another talk would be beneficial. A plan is outlined, and alliances are formed.

“Things are calming down outside,” Simon said quietly across the dark hallway, his voice a little strained. “People responded quickly… The invaders are still being tracked down.” He paused.

They stared at each other warily.

“…No one knows you’re here, so we shouldn’t have anything else to worry about tonight,” Simon continued. “Will you sit down and talk to me?”

The windows, the stairs… His instincts told him how easy it would be to overpower Simon here in the dark, with no one else to help him…

And then what? He could see a cautiousness in Simon that hadn’t been there before… it hurt somehow. It hurt more than his leg.

He could run, but this would be the last thing he remembered if he did. It would stick with him. 

He wavered, and his shoulders dropped. Slowly he turned and shuffled back to the bedroom, and Simon followed. He sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, and Simon sat in the chair nearby, watching him. They could both hear distant shouting. Simon thought he heard Markus, and Reaver knew he did.

“Rook?”

He looked up and Simon was offering the paper and pencil uncertainly. He stared for a long moment before taking them slowly and setting them down on the nightstand. After a second he looked up to meet Simon’s bright blue eyes.

“I am Reaver,” he said in a low voice, a little rough from lack of use lately. “Second son of the Eastern Empire.”

Simon’s eyes widened and he straightened up in his seat a little.

“I am… I was… trained since birth to be… a weapon. My brother who will take the throne soon is strong, but my skill is even greater. I have… annihilated hundreds of your countrymen. Soldiers and innocents. You put up a good fight against those soldiers tonight, but I could kill you in an instant. I could kill Markus easily.”

“That – I’m sorry, I’m… I know that.”

Reaver blinked.

“It’s common knowledge.”

“I know that,” Reaver shot back, just slightly annoyed. “You – I’m not sure you understand the implications, based on your… behavior.”

“Why are you here?” Simon asked softly, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. When he didn’t get an answer, he continued. “Why were you limping around outside on a cold night?”

“If you know who I am, you know the answer to that,” the taller man growled.

“I wouldn’t ask if I knew the answer,” Simon snapped. “…Sorry. I… I don’t know you very well, but… I know what you’re talking about, and… and I don’t think that’s the case.”

Reaver – Rook – stared at Simon, who finally sat back with a sigh.

“I’m not going to… turn you in. I can’t force you to tell me anything. But… I’d like you to. I’m… I’m listening. When you’re ready.”

There was a sudden tightness in Rook’s throat, and he swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. “I was running,” he said quietly. “I… I don’t want to be… just a tool. A weapon. I don’t know how to be anything else, but… I wanted to try.”

“Did something happen to prompt that, or did you just… snap one day?” Simon asked softly.

“I… the queen… was speaking to Connor, and I overheard… My hearing is very good. She told him that I would always be there, watching, ready to take him out the instant he began to… to make poor choices. To step in and replace him.” He frowned. “I wasn’t raised to rule, there are many… social and political aspects that are… beyond me. My… brother and I have never been… loving. There’s no warmth between us, it wasn’t… that isn’t how we grew up. But…”

“…But he’s your brother,” Simon supplied quietly when he trailed off. “He’s your family.”

Rook made a face. “He’s my only blood relative. And… the closest thing to… to any connection that I have.”

Simon reached out instinctively and lay a hand over Rook’s larger one. Gray eyes rose, lost and still a little wild. He didn’t pull away, though.

“I could kill you as easily as breathing,” he whispered.

“You’ve had plenty of chances to do that,” Simon murmured, holding eye contact. “If you were going to, you would have. You wouldn’t have… helped me. You wouldn’t have protected me against your… against the invaders.”

Rook’s eyes dropped. “I’m not – don’t make me out to be… a hero or a savior. Or a good person. You know what I’ve done. You know I’m a monster.”

A smaller hand squeezed his. “I know you’ve done… some pretty drastic things. Terrible things. But you said yourself that you left because you didn’t want to do that anymore.”

“That doesn’t change the past.”

“Of course not, but it changes the future. It’s who you decide to be that really matters, Rook.”

“I told you who I am.”

“Do you want me to call you that?”

He winced. “No,” he breathed.

“Your name is Rook, then,” Simon said softly. “Like you told me. You decide who you are.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No, but it’s a step in the right direction.” Simon patted his hand. “And you’ll get there.”

Rook eyed him doubtfully.

Simon sighed. “…For now, try to get back to bed. It’s so late, it’s early.”

“You’re just… going back to sleep?”

“I’ll probably just lie in bed, I’m not sure I’ll be able to actually fall asleep. Do you need anything?”

“Why – I don’t… understand you.”

“There’s… not much to understand,” Simon said quietly. “We’ve been friends for two weeks now, haven’t we? I’m an open book. If you don’t need anything, do you mind if I go for now, though? I need some time.”

Rook watched Simon retreat to his room and close the door. He lay back and stared up at the ceiling for the rest of the night.

Simon was a few minutes late getting up in the morning, but he still knocked softly and brought in two bowls of oatmeal with honey and dried fruit so they could eat breakfast together. They didn’t speak until Simon sat down.

“I’m sorry,” Rook said, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have hidden… who I was from you.”

“No, I… I understand,” Simon said slowly.

“I’ve put you in danger, though. They know I’m here. They’ll come after me.”

“You let them go.”

Rook’s face twisted. “I… want to be left alone, but not at the price of… continuing to be what I was. I realize that means it will catch up to me in time. I… once I’m able to move freely again, I’ll have to let them see me leave, I’ll keep moving south.”

Simon frowned. “So you want to just… keep running? Forever? I… can’t imagine they’ll give up easily.”

“No, but they’ll eventually leave you alone if they know I’ve left.”

The blonde regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment. “You know… I think I can handle it.”

“…What?”

“They’re going to keep hounding you either way. Actually – would you be willing to meet with Markus? If he was able to lay an ambush, it might be really effective.”

“I… I’m… I don’t think that’s… safe, and certainly not good for your business at the very least.”

“It’s not safe either way, Rook. We’re not safe here. You won’t be safe if you leave. And business is terrible anyway.” Simon shut his mouth on the bitterness and sighed. “There’s… no perfect solution here. There wasn’t even without you being… who you were. All we can do now is make the best of it.”

“You don’t mind if I stay, then?” Rook asked quietly, after a moment. “For… for a while, at least?”

“I’d been hoping you would.” His smile had an oddly sad twist to it that Rook didn’t like.

“Well then… I think I should speak with Markus.” Every instinct told him this was a bad idea, but it seemed the best way for them both – them all – to survive this.

“I’ll see if he can stop by. He’ll be busy, but… I think he’ll make time for you.” Simon smiled tightly. “Are you… up for this right now?”

“I was trained to endure anything at any time.”

“I know – oh, that makes sense, the way you handled the pain in your leg. But this isn’t about what you can endure. You shouldn’t push yourself too hard.”

Rook looked up into his warm blue eyes. “I’ll be all right,” he said softly. “This needs to be done soon.” Simon began to get up, and his hand darted out, catching the smaller, softer one. “Simon.”

Simon blinked, eyes widening at the contact.

“Thank you,” Rook murmured. It was laughably inadequate, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Simon’s smile relaxed a bit and his hand curled around Rook’s fingers to squeeze them. “I’m glad you’re here. And I’m glad you’re staying.”

“I really appreciate you coming,” Simon said, leading Markus and a small coalition inside. “I’m glad to see your recovery’s gone well!”

Markus chuckled. “Apparently the Empire just can’t take me down.”

“So who exactly is this we’re going to talk to?” Josh asked warily as they climbed the stairs.

“I – well, I think it’s better if he explains. But I trust him. And he could really be an asset to your plans. And he wants to help.” He took a deep breath and opened the door.

“You’re really – holy shit!” Josh jumped and stumbled backwards at the sight of the Reaver sitting at the window. Markus and the others were already drawing their weapons. Simon lunged in front of them.

“Wait! Wait, he’s not here to hurt anyone, he’s been staying here for a couple weeks now and he hasn’t done anything, and he defended us against the attack last night,” he said quickly. “I – he was used, he doesn’t want to do that anymore, he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Please just listen to him.”

“Good morning,” Rook said quietly. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“We… we didn’t quite…” Markus shook his head. “Well… thank you for… inviting us. We… appreciate it.”

Rook nodded shortly and gestured to the chairs Simon had pulled in from other rooms. “Please, sit down.” His tone was soft, even, calm. He tried to imitate Simon, though he knew he wasn’t nearly as convincing. It helped that Simon stayed in the room, even if he wasn’t directly involved. He leaned against the wall about halfway between Rook and Markus. Supporting both. It was calming to have him there. “You clearly know I am the second son of Queen Amanda of the Eastern Empire, known as Reaver.” He hesitated. “I call myself Rook now.”

“So you just… happened to show up here, where Markus happened to be?” Josh asked coldly.

“I passed through other towns. I was heading south, hoping to find somewhere quiet to lie low.”

“You couldn’t just… teleport there?” asked Echo suspiciously.

“I don’t have the power to teleport long distances to destinations I’ve never seen,” he explained patiently.

“So what do you want with us?” Markus cut in, eyes narrowed.

“I drove off the attackers last night – with Simon’s help.” He glanced up with a not-quite-smile before turning back to Markus. “I don’t want to be… involved in the conflict anymore. But because I was seen and they got away – presumably – more will come. Your best course of action would be to use this location as an ambush.”

“You could have killed them if you didn’t want to cause this kind of problem,” Markus muttered.

“I told you I don’t want to be involved,” Rook snapped, face hardening. “I’ll… I’ll do what I have to, but I want to avoid… killing anyone else. If possible.”

“That’s – really?” Josh asked.

“I realize it’s going to be a challenge,” Rook muttered.

“But he defended us last night,” Simon spoke up. “Without killing or even hurting anyone.”

“…At least without leaving lasting injuries.” He frowned at Markus. “I’m not here to offer my… services for your side. I simply want you know what to expect in the immediate future.”

He and Markus stared at each other, tension simmering between them.

“All right,” Markus finally said quietly. “And when they come back, what will you do? Hide?”

“They know where I am and I’m… slightly incapacitated at the moment,” Rook said bitterly. “At this point I’m more use as bait than anything else.”

“Right, but when it comes to that point… I need to know what to expect from you.”

“I won’t attack you.”

Markus nodded slowly. “All right. Is that all?”

Rook’s eyes flicked briefly to Simon, who was watching quietly, before meeting Markus’s gaze again. “I… can make no promises, but I will try to prevent… damage or harm to your people and home, to the best of my ability.”

“Why should we trust you?” Josh asked sharply, crossing his arms.

Rook looked up at him. “Because it would benefit you. Because I have no love for my homeland. Because I… don’t want to see any harm done here.” He glanced up at Simon almost shyly.

Markus glanced over at Josh, who was watching Rook suspiciously, then back at the taller man. “Well… I’d say we don’t have much of a choice.”

“You have the choice to turn me over to them,” Rook said quietly.

“No,” Simon interrupted, and Rook put up a hand.

“What happens if we do that?” Markus asked.

“I imagine I’ll be killed. The queen wouldn’t allow me to live after this kind of betrayal, especially with all that I know.”

“You’d… allow that?”

He winced a little. “It isn’t a matter of… allowing with her. It would happen.”

“Can she… force you to turn on us?” Josh asked.

“I’m powerful enough that she would need direct contact to… break my resistance entirely.”

“But she can try anyway?”

“She can try,” Rook repeated, his voice flat and cold. “I realize I’m… a risk, at best. I’m asking for… a chance to redeem myself. Just a bit.”

“They saw you here, so they’ll come whether or not you’re still here,” Echo pointed out.

His gaze flicked to her. “True.”

“Your leg hasn’t healed yet, you still can’t walk,” Simon spoke up in a voice that brooked no argument, pushing off the wall. “You’re staying here.”

Rook looked up at him and their intense, pale glares met head-on. Markus and Josh glanced at each other.

“I would prefer to,” Rook murmured, breaking eye contact first.

“…All right,” Markus said, bemused. “Since that’s been decided… when do you expect the next attack to come?”

“Within the week. Possibly as soon as tomorrow.”

“Then we’ll be ready. Thank you.” Markus offered his hand, and after a brief pause, Rook clasped it firmly.

“You handled that well,” Simon murmured after he’d seen Markus and his entourage out.

“As I’ve mentioned, I’m not adept at such interactions,” Rook muttered. “Connor would have had them eating out of his hand.”

“But you got what you were going for.”

“They don’t trust me. …Which I understand.”

“Well sure, but that’ll take time.” Simon smiled and put a hand on his shoulder, noting how Rook tensed, then leaned into the touch. “You’re doing this… authentically, and it takes more than just words to get people to trust you. They’ll see, though. They’ll trust you.”

“You have so much faith in someone you’ve known for two weeks, who hid his identity from you,” Rook mumbled.

Simon rubbed his shoulder. “I’m a pretty good judge of character. You haven’t given me any reason not to believe in you.”

Gray eyes looked up at him, lacking their previous coldness. “I won’t let you down,” he breathed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda's forces attack, and Markus fends them off with Rook's help.  
Rook sends a message back home.  
Simon tries to show Rook some little things that make life worth living.

Three nights after Rook met with Markus, the first attack came.

Markus’s troops were staying in the open rooms, or in nearby buildings, lying in wait. Around 3 am, Rook woke to the sound of more activity than there should be outside.

_”Wake up,”_ he projected into the other rooms. _”They’ve come.”_

There were a few sorcerers with the squadron, but the conjuring and damage didn’t start until Markus’s forces burst out from all sides.

Rook stood back from the window of his room, pushing the invaders together, back from the inn. Closer to Markus’s troops, farther from Simon.

…Who had of course joined him.

“You okay?” Simon murmured, coming to stand next to him.

“Yes.” He paused. “There are only around forty soldiers.”

“Do you think they’ll send more?”

“I’m sure of it.”

Below, Markus had captured most of the enemy. Simon edged closer and looked up at Rook, then put a hand lightly on his back. The taller man tensed a bit, and Simon pulled back.

“Sorry, I – I can’t tell, does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No. …Yes,” Rook amended. “But… not… not in a bad way.”

Simon hesitated, then put his hand back.

“Combat experience is all I have to refer to,” Rook mumbled as the last enemy soldiers were captured.

“It shouldn’t be like that,” Simon muttered, and slid an arm around him. The contact tingled and set Rook on edge, but only because he was hyper-aware of every movement and sensation. “Let me know if it’s… too much, or if you want some space. Or just – if you don’t want it. But this should be… a good thing.”

Rook didn’t know what to do about that, didn’t know what to do with his hand or his arms or his face. All he could do was lean into Simon and inhale deeply. Simon smelled like roast meat and fresh bread and soap, and that changed a little every day, but it was always a warm, comforting mix.

“Sounds like things are quieting down out there,” Simon murmured after a while.

“The invaders were all captured. …Amanda will know.”

“How?”

“She can only extend herself so far, but she can see through the eyes of any of her people.”

Simon tensed beside him. “Can she see through you?”

“No. I wouldn’t have bothered to flee if she could.”

Simon squeezed him a little, leaning his head on Rook’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Rook wondered if there was some reference guide for the physical aspect of social interactions. Laying his cheek against Simon’s soft hair felt good either way, and it didn’t seem to bother the shorter man. “So am I.”

Markus and Josh came with a larger group in the afternoon to debrief, and Rook talked Simon into helping him down the stairs. It was slow going, but they managed.

“You know we’re just going to have to go back up again,” Simon said with a rueful grin.

“I know. I appreciate your help.”

Simon patted his shoulder. “Actually, before we do, how would you feel about going outside for a while if you’re not too tired? I’ll get a scarf to hide your face.”

“…All right,” Rook said hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, it’s not far. I won’t drag you across town.”

“I could manage.”

Simon brought over a finely-knit gray and white scarf and wound it loosely around Rook’s neck, and over his head like a hood. “I know you could,” he said, tucking a stray bit of hair behind the other’s ear. “But you don’t have to. What’s important is that you take care of yourself so you can heal.”

His hands were soft and warm, and Rook couldn’t help leaning into them. “It seems that you’ve been handling that without any help,” he murmured, his head cocking to the side.

Simon laughed and looped an arm around him. “Only because you weren’t making any effort at all! Come on, we’ll walk slowly.”

It was a bit chilly out, but not uncomfortable when they pressed together. They made their way a few blocks north to the parsonage. Simon kept the pace slow, pulling Rook a little closer each time he needed to slow down. And Rook made an effort, but didn’t feel bad when Simon had to pull him back.

“This kind of place would be great to live in,” Simon murmured, leading him through a tall wooden gate into a large garden. There were trellises with vines growing all over them, apple trees, and flowers lining the high walls.

“Could you buy it?” Rook was looking over at the house in the distance. “It seems large enough that you could run an inn if you wanted to.”

“It’s allocated to the church… and I don’t have that kind of money anyway! Not even if I sold the inn for a good price.”

Rook looked around. “But something similar…”

“That would be ideal.” Simon smiled, bending as they paused to touch a spiraling vine. 

They headed to a small arbor, with roses twining overhead, and sat for a while. The flowers’ scent was strong, and Simon clearly enjoyed it, but when he glanced over Rook was stiff and distant.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Rook’s cheek twitched. “I – the queen loves roses. I trained next to her garden a lot, and… smelled them all the time. The scent also drifted up to my bedroom.”

“I – oh.” Simon watched him for a moment before getting up. “Let’s move on then, if you’re ready.”

“I can see you enjoy the smell, I don’t mind –“

“No. …I do like the smell, but not at the cost of your comfort.” He smiled. “Come on, there are plenty of other things worth seeing.”

They each picked an apple and headed back, but instead of going in the front door Simon led them around the side of the building. Some cobblestones had been pried up, and various herbs grew now.

“This is more on my level,” Simon chuckled. “I went around grabbing seeds from everybody else’s gardens last fall. I actually have a bunch dried and stored for later. But these have been growing really well!”

Rook bent to rub a bit of each kind of leave between his fingers, and smelled it. Lavender… Basil… Lemon balm… Rosemary… Oregano…

“Here – I’ve got some string, we can bundle some up, and make a sachet.”

“For… is that for cooking?”

“No – I mean it can be – but they’re just nice to smell.”

“Oh. …Do all the herbs go into it?”

“They can, or you can make your own combination.”

Rook hesitated.

“The young growth has the best aroma and flavor – and if you pull them off, a new stalk will grow in their place.” Simon picked a sprig of basil, and Rook went for the lemon balm. They both picked quietly for a few minutes, smelling their combinations, pausing to consider.

“Are you doing okay?” Simon asked quietly after a while.

“Fine,” he answered automatically, then backpedaled a bit. “My leg isn’t hurting much yet.”

“That’s good.” Simon smiled fondly. “But I meant… not your leg. Do you feel okay with… everything?”

“That… that’s a lot to lump together,” Rook muttered. “Mostly, I want this to be over.”

Simon sighed and patted his shoulder lightly. “So do I. I was just thinking… you start to sound different when you get talking about tactics too much.”

Rook blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, it’s subtle. Your voice gets lower, your face gets more serious. Like you’re… doing a job you don’t really like, but you know you have to do it.”

“That… is an accurate description.” Rook turned to look at Simon. “You’re very perceptive.”

“I pay attention,” Simon said dismissively. “I just thought – I know Markus appreciates what you’re doing, we all do, but… don’t get caught up in that in the long-term.”

Rook frowned. “I hadn’t been thinking about it, but I’m certainly able to put my knowledge and abilities to good use…”

Simon elbowed him gently. “No. You can be… useful in the short-term, but you can keep trying different things, and find something you like. Something that doesn’t turn you hard and cold. And it can still be something that’s helpful, but just… don’t get yourself caught in a life you’re unhappy with again.”

Rook’s eyes widened a bit. “I… I hadn’t planned to…”

“I know,” Simon said gently. “Just… make sure you don’t. Do what’s best for you. I’ll help as much as I can.”

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about what’s best for _you_?” Rook murmured.

Simon laughed. “I’m worried about that too. Just… don’t lose yourself to… what you were trying to get away from.”

Rook closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded and opened them again. “Thank you. I’ll try not to.”

Simon smiled and offered his hand, and Rook took it. They walked slowly back inside.

Another attack came the following week, this time in greater force. As the fighting raged on in the streets, one of the enemy sorcerers shot a bolt of blue light into the sky that blossomed into a message:  
‘RETURN THE HOSTAGE OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES.’

“I have to do something,” Rook muttered, stepping back from the window.

“You’re not going back,” Simon insisted.

“I… no, I don’t want to, but… I have to think about the best course of action.”

“Send a message. Make it clear that you’re not a hostage.”

“She won’t believe it. Even directly from my mouth, she wouldn’t believe it. Or she wouldn’t care. I’m too powerful to let go.” His shoulders tightened.

Simon bit his lip. “So what are you going to do?”

“Well… perhaps you’re right,” Rook murmured after a moment of thought. “A message would be best.”

Markus, Josh, Simon, and a handful of armed guards all leaned as far away from the cells as possible, and the prisoners pressed to the backs of their cells as Rook stood in the middle of the long hall, facing them.

“_I am here of my own accord, Amanda._” His voice echoed, reverberated throughout the building, and the beams holding it up shook. There was an odd, thick ripple in the air around him, and now and then when he moved there was a crackle at the bent joint. “_I want nothing to do with Markus and his forces, but you’re forcing my hand._”

Markus and Josh shared a nervous glance.

“_If you want something from me, face me yourself. Not your armies, not your court. I’ll speak to you, and you alone. If you involve anyone else or send another attack force, the offer is rescinded and you’ll see just how well you prepared me for battle._” The thickness suddenly dissipated, and everyone else in the room took a deep breath. Rook turned and hobbled out, and the others slunk along after him.

“Do you think she’ll… agree?” Markus asked quietly.

Rook turned sharply and Markus and his friends pulled back. Rook’s eyes narrowed.

“If she doesn’t, she’ll regret it,” he said sternly, and walked slowly out.

“Thank you,” Simon murmured, and followed him. “…Are you all right?”

“…Why do you ask?” His voice was stiff and distant.

“Because you sound like you’re not. Because you just sent a direct message to someone who’s treated you like a tool all your life, inviting her to see you again.” Simon put a hand lightly on Rook’s arm.

“I was fully prepared for that, and the consequences,” Rook muttered.

“I know, but –“

“For your own safety, you should keep your distance. Especially now.” He pulled his arm away.

Simon blinked. “…What? Listen, I know what to expect too, I’m in this with you. I know I can’t do much, but –“

“You know what I’m capable of.”

“This again?” Simon stepped closer, sliding an arm around his waist. “What was that you did in there? It felt like… I don’t know. Like someone was punching me in the head, but constant.”

“I… didn’t focus as well as I should have,” he mumbled. “I let my anger get the better of me, I’m sorry. There were a lot of them to cover, and I didn’t want to miss any. I knew she would be watching, and I wanted to be sure my message reached her through all channels.”

“I wasn’t expecting it,” Simon murmured. “I can’t say it felt good. But yes, I know what you’re capable of. And I know you.”

“That’s – that isn’t a good reason to risk yourself.”

“No, it means that I’m not in much danger. There’s very little risk here – at least, not much more than there always has been, just living here.”

They walked inside, and the silence was thick for a moment.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Rook whispered, looking towards the kitchen.

Simon stepped around in front of him and reached up to cup the left side of his face in one hand. “You won’t,” he said softly.

“You shouldn’t trust so easily.” He turned into Simon’s touch.

“Well… the more I get to know you, the more I do.”

Rook sighed, closing his eyes, and he suddenly looked exhausted. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“For now, let’s try to relax,” Simon murmured. “There’s nothing else we can do until she responds. We can be watchful, but… staying on-edge forever won’t do any good.” He slid his hand up into the soft, thick brown hair.

The taller man stared down at him for a long moment. “You said once that I was like a kitten,” he mumbled, eyes distant.

“…Impulsive, curious, and determined,” Simon agreed, chuckling. “Have you ever tried to stop a kitten from getting into something? Nearly impossible. Just be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Rook reached out, touching Simon’s arm, then his fingertips hovered on his cheek before trailing down to his chin. He couldn’t seem to find the right words, nor the voice to say them. He wasn’t used to feeling so inadequate, but how could he not?

“Hey,” Simon murmured, noting the creasing of his forehead. “You’re doing fine. Great, actually. Your injury’s healing well, you’re working with a lot of other people, contributing towards a larger goal without going back to what you left behind.”

“I… suppose,” Rook muttered. “But I… I still don’t know what I’m… going to do. How to resolve this completely. Where to go. Who… who I am, without what I was.”

Simon cupped a hand over Rook’s. “You don’t have to… know everything right now. It’s a process. And honestly, it’s never… over. It’s a continuous thing, you’ll always be learning something new, trying something different. But you’re already making great strides, and you’ll get to a point where… where you feel more comfortable with the process.”

Rook sighed, forcing himself to focus on just the warm hand for a moment. “You’re very optimistic.”

“I’m really not. I’m more of a realist, actually. But that’s how life works, in my experience. It’s just… always changing. If it’s not changing, you’re not really… living.”

“Hm…” Rook stared into his eyes thoughtfully.

“And that’s scary, but you can get used to it. I do believe that, both in general and about you specifically.”

Rook’s expression lightened considerably, though he didn’t say anything in response. Simon squeezed his hand gently.

“Come on, help me make some cookies. That’s absolutely an essential skill you need to learn.”

“All right,” Rook said softly, almost smiling as he followed Simon to the kitchen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda's army is on the move, and Rook tries to prepare for what is to come. Simon tries to keep his mind off it while North tries to assess the threat level.  
For now, there's still time to cook and look and flowers and talk softly under the trees.

“Have you heard from the Queen yet?” Markus asked, frowning as he leaned over the table.

“I highly doubt that she would send another message,” Rook murmured, adding a bit more butter to the pan of peppers and onions he had over the fire. “She’ll show up. …Unless she decides to send an assassin.”

“Do you… think that’s likely?” Markus glanced at Josh, who looked even more worried. “What should we expect?”

Rook shook his head, carefully stirring the pan. “Whatever happens, you should stay out of the way when it does. This is now between myself and her. I apologize that you’ve been caught in the middle.” He paused. “I’ll certainly let you know when I know anything, but only so you can get away.”

Markus stared into his unyielding gaze for a moment before he nodded. “…All right.”

“Was there anything else?”

“Um – no.” Markus glanced at Josh for confirmation. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Then I’ll be in contact when it’s relevant,” he said, turning his back on Markus.

“Right. Ah – thank you.”

“…You’re welcome.” He glanced up at Simon.

“That looks about ready – the onions are starting to turn translucent, and the peppers are getting a duller green. Everything’s softer. Now let’s stir that into the ground beef here.”

“All right,” Simon said when they had put the meat pies in the oven. “These should bake for a little more than half an hour. I need to run out and get some beets to color our dessert icing – it’ll look a lot better pink than white!”

Rook nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

Simon waved cheerfully as he left, and Rook had just turned away when he heard the door open again. Different footsteps approached.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed right now,” Rook said, turning back. There was a woman, maybe a little younger than Simon, eyeing him suspiciously.

“You’re the guy who’s been saying here with Simon.”

“…Yes,” Rook admitted guardedly.

“The Reaver.”

Rook’s face twitched a bit. “I go by Rook these days. What do you want?”

She marched right up to him and leaned farther into his space than he was comfortable with. “I’m watching you, asshole. If you hurt one hair on his head, I’ll make you regret being born.”

He stared at her. “You’re aware that I’ve been here for weeks? That I’ve had… millions of opportunities to hurt him if that was my goal?”

“Yeah, he was helping you out. He’s making your leg heal faster, he’s making things easy for you. Even got you into Markus’s circle.”

“You think I’m using Simon?”

“Aren’t you?”

“And who are you?”

“You don’t need to know who I am,” she growled.

“His friend North?” Rook guessed. 

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re powerful enough that you shouldn’t need to get him involved.”

He stared at her. “…Yes.”

“So then why did you!?” she demanded.

“I hadn’t intended to stop here. He opened his door to me, invited me in, offered all this. It was his choice.”

“And you just took everything he offered!” she hissed, glaring at him.

He paused, then tipped his head slightly. “I did. I was in… poor condition. I was hurt, cold, exhausted… If I hadn’t come in when he invited me, I likely would have collapsed in the street within an hour. I can withstand a lot, but I had reached my limit. I came in because it seemed my best option and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“And you’re still here,” North said flatly.

“I’ve been lucky enough that Simon’s invited me to stay,” he murmured.

“Yeah, and lucky enough that you duped him into introducing you to Markus. So you’re working with him now.”

“For the time being. My goal is to stop the queen from attacking your land.”

“Why? What do you care what happens to us?”

“I – I do,” Rook murmured, frowning slightly. “I’ve grown… attached.”

“I’m sure,” North muttered, rolling her eyes.

His frown deepened. “I understand your doubts, but I left the Empire, and I… I like it here.”

“What do you even know about our land?” North exclaimed. “You’ve been here for a few weeks, and stuck in a room for most of that time. What have you even seen?”

“I studied the geography and culture quite a bit – but what I’ve seen for myself…” He shrugged. “I’ve seen… kindness. Caring. I’ve seen a life that means more than any grand ideas of war or conquest. …And I saw that stuck in a room with Simon.” He hesitated. “He… is the reason I want to stay, and the reason I’ll protect this land, despite not wanting to be involved. I would like to see more of the land, of the… life here, but… he’s the source of all of that.”

North eyes flicked from his eyes to his mouth to his hands and back. “…What are… what do you… what’s your deal with Simon?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me,” North said flatly.

“I just told you. He’s done a lot for me, and I… appreciate it. Him. I… I enjoy… his company.”

“So you’re suddenly helping Markus fight your own _mother_ just because you enjoy Simon’s company?” North sneered.

Rook blinked at her. “…Yes.”

Her expression fell, then she shook her head. “You’re a bad liar.”

“I’m actually quite a good liar, it was deemed an essential part of my training. I’m not lying.”

“Whatever. Just remember, one wrong move and I’ll make your life hell.”

“I appreciate your willingness to defend your friend,” Rook said quietly, ducking his head.

“Shut up.”

“I swear to do the same.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“If any harm comes to him… it will be because I failed to protect him,” Rook said quietly. “In which case, I fully expect you to retaliate against me. I won’t fight back.”

“Okay, now you’re just being…”

“I am entirely serious, I assure you. Thank you for… caring for him. He cares for others… more than he should, and for himself not enough.”

“…Well that’s true,” she snorted softly.

“I… I can protect him from physical harm, but as for daily care… I’m well-versed in survival skills, but not… softer, more… comfortable methods. Which is… what… he should have,” Rook continued haltingly, staring at the oven.

“…What?”

“He’s accustomed to comfort and… and softness in life. Not in terms of wealth, but… he makes food to taste good, not just to nourish people. He takes walks just to… to see and smell… pleasant things. He pauses to listen to musicians in the street, he hums as he works and talks… even when there’s no need.” Rook sighed, his shoulders drooping. “He should… be able to continue that kind of life.”

North stared openly at him. “…What kind of rock did you crawl out from under?”

His eyes flicked briefly to her. “…A very heavy, cold one, apparently,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I can see that. Shit.” She made a face. “You need to get out more.”

“We went to the parsonage a while back, to smell the roses. I preferred the herbs just outside the inn, though.”

“Huh,” North grunted, watching him. “You’re a strange one.”

“I suppose.”

“And if… if the queen leaves you alone, what then?”

He paused. Truly, he didn’t think she would leave him alone while they both lived. “Then I’d like to… live a quiet life. I’d like to stay, to… contribute. Earn my keep here. I like this place.”

“Hm. What if Simon sells the inn and goes off to live with his brother?”

“I – he’s free to do so if that’s what he wants,” Rook said quietly. “I want him to… be happy. To have a good life.”

“Sure, you can say whatever you want,” North grumbled, though her heart didn’t seem in it.

“I… I would prefer to stay with him. But above all, I want him to… be happy. Whether or not I’m there.”

North was scrutinizing him when Simon returned with a bundle of beets.

“Oh! North, hi! You’ve met Rook, I take it?”

“Yeah, we had a talk,” she said evenly. “You doing okay?”

“Great! All the rooms are full, and business has never been better!”

“So you’re using the most powerful battle mage in history to boost your business?” North rolled her eyes at them both. “Nice, Simon.”

“What? No, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Sure. Well I just stopped in to say hi, I’ve got things to do. I’ll see you around.” As she left she cast Rook a glance that wasn’t entirely friendly, but not overly unfriendly either.

“You okay?” Simon asked softly. “She can be a little intense when you don’t know what to expect, and she’s got some… strong opinions.”

“She was… civil,” Rook murmured. “She wanted to make sure you were safe. I can appreciate that.”

Simon groaned and set the beets down. “Did she threaten you? No, stupid question, of course she did. Um. Just – she absolutely means it and will follow through. Just so you know how she works.”

He nodded. “Good. …She seems like a good friend.”

“She is,” Simon agreed, smiling.

“And I think she’d been watching the inn for quite some time, waiting for you to leave so she could threaten and interrogate me.”

“That does sound like something she would do,” Simon sighed, rolling his eyes and grinning. “Sorry about that.”

“No… I appreciate that she was willing to protect you if it was necessary. I didn’t mind.”

“Well, I’m glad you… seemed to have a pretty good first meeting. Hopefully the next one will be better!”

“Hopefully,” Rook echoed softly.

“I received a carrier pigeon from one of our operatives across the border,” Markus said without preamble as he came into the dining area.

“Carrier pigeon?” Rook raised an eyebrow.

“They’re reliable,” Markus huffed. “Anyway, a huge army is moving towards us right now, straight from the Tower.”

Rook frowned. “…She’s coming.”

“Do you think she’s planning an all-out attack?” Josh asked.

“I… it’s possible, but it’s more likely that she wants to make a statement. To intimidate you.”

“It’s working,” Josh muttered.

“We can muster our forces, call on volunteers,” Markus murmured.

“It’s only for show,” Rook cut in. “You can make your own show of strength, but… this is not for combat. Not initially, anyway. This is backup, in case things go bad. But mainly, it’s to show you what she has at her personal disposal.” He paused. “If you strike out at her though, she will absolutely use it as an excuse to strike back.”

“Understood. …I can’t just sit here and wait, hoping she won’t attack first, though.”

“Of course not. You should do the same. Call your forces and volunteers, as you said. How far off are they?”

“A couple days’ march.”

“Then you don’t have time to train anyone, but make sure they’re ready to appear with you. She isn’t here for you, she’s coming for me. You would just be… an additional benefit.”

“Would… How far do you think she would go… against you?” Simon asked softly when the others had gone.

“Death would be an option,” Rook muttered, gazing out the window. “Probably one of the better ones.”

Simon elbowed him lightly. “Hey. You’re not going to die.”

“I hope not. I’d like to have a chance to live first.”

Simon hesitated, then looped an arm around him. “Let’s go for a walk. The stew can simmer for a while. How’s your leg?”

“It’s doing well today. …I’d like to take a walk.” His voice grew soft and shy, and Simon smiled, leading him out the door. Rook grabbed the walking stick he’d taken to using on his way out.

They walked past houses and businesses, around the edge of the market, to the north part of town. People greeted or smiled at Simon, and a few gave Rook a cautious nod or greeting as well. Many of them still stared at him warily, but his assistance in the recent invasions and Simon’s acceptance of him helped his reputation quite a bit.

“Are towns very different in the east?” Simon asked as they walked. “…I mean, I know that’s a stupid idea. We’re neighbors, I can’t imagine it would be much different over there.”

Rook was quiet for a moment. “You know… I’m not sure,” he finally murmured. “I mainly stayed in the Tower and the grounds, or traveled to and from battles.” He looked around. “From a distance… they look much the same.”

“Hm… on a day-to-day level, we’re probably very similar. It’s just a matter of different leaders and different politics.”

“You’re right… and had your own royal succession not fallen into such disarray, I don’t think the queen would have had such an easy time facing you.”

“They say there might be evidence somewhere out there that the throne belongs to Markus, but all we have to go on is his word that the king told him on his deathbed.” Simon shrugged. “I mean, he made it very clear that his son Leo wouldn’t inherit. And Markus was like a son to him even though he was a servant at the time. I think most of us would accept Markus, at this point. But he doesn’t want to cause a civil war, so he’s just trying to hold the country together and worry about that when the threat has lessened.”

“…Which it isn’t likely to,” Rook muttered. “I admire that his priority is to hold the country together and protect the people. Has anyone heard from the king’s first son?”

“No, he disappeared years ago. …And of course there are rumors about that, too.”

“Oh, I’ve heard. He’s dead, he’s being kept in a vault under the castle, he’s been banished to an island off the coast of Greenland…” Rook shrugged.

“I’m afraid I haven’t heard anything lately,” Simon said with a shrug.

Rook nodded slowly. “I hope… he’s well. Wherever he is.”

Simon led the way to a park full of massive trees. “I never cared for black-eyed Susans much, they’re kind of prickly, but they’re cheerful flowers. I do like the day lilies, look at all the different varieties! There are azaleas, hydrangeas… I love the smell of the spirea, and the bush gets huge!”

Rook didn’t know the names of any of the flowers, but he walked with Simon, listening to him identify plants and talk about childhood memories or friends or just thoughts that came to his mind. Finally Simon seemed to realize how quiet Rook was.

“…Sorry, I don’t usually talk that much.” He laughed self-consciously. “I didn’t mean to bore you.”

“You didn’t, I didn’t know any of those plants,” Rook said. “And… well… it’s easier to listen to you than to think about what’s coming.”

Simon wrapped an arm around his.

“I like listening to you, even when I have little to contribute,” Rook murmured, looking aside. “You’re… calming. Grounding. Interesting.” He paused, then mumbled, “…Good.” His vocabulary in this area was improving, but he keenly felt how lacking he still was on a daily basis.

“That’s… a little much,” Simon said quietly, chuckling. “It’s nice of you to say, but I’m average at best.”

Rook turned a cold stare on him. “Do you honestly think so little of yourself? When you have such a broad and useful skillset, when you can offer kindness to strangers and even… enemies? You’re exceptional!” He paused and took a measured breath. “…But even if you were … average, or lesser, my opinion of you would not decrease.”

Simon’s startled face slowly melted into a warm smile. “That’s… you’re… you’re really sweet,” he mumbled, and ducked his head, blushing hard. Rook wasn’t sure what to do, but when he shuffled closer Simon leaned his whole weight into him, so that… must be a step in the right direction.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rook says goodbye to Simon, and goes to meet Amanda across the border.  
Things don't go as planned, in more ways than one.  
Connor acts fast - just in time, in fact.

The Eastern Army set up camp along the border and made a point of honing their weapons, practicing drills early in the morning, and sparring with each other.

“They’re so annoying,” Rook muttered, shaking his head.

“They’re possibly the most powerful armed force in the known world,” Josh muttered.

“They’re showing off, as I said they would.”

“Could you… wipe them all out?” Markus asked slowly.

Rook peered through the spyglass across the expanse of tents and troops. “It would take a great deal of effort.”

“…But you could do it?”

He shrugged. “Most likely.”

“Why didn’t you just… kill us all?” Markus asked quietly. “Before, I mean.”

Rook’s eyes narrowed. “That was never the plan. Amanda was biding her time, waiting to weaken you enough, then she would make her move. I wasn’t privy to her plans, but I’m sure she had them.”

Josh shivered. Rook handed the spyglass back to him.

“Are you going?” Markus asked.

Rook nodded. “No need to prolong the inevitable.”

“Good luck.” Markus offered his hand, and Rook paused briefly before clasping it.

“And to you. Don’t make any hasty decisions… but be ready.”

Simon was waiting at the bottom of the watch tower, fidgeting nervously. Rook stopped and looked him over.

“Let me walk with you,” Simon said quietly.

It was a risk, Simon shouldn’t be anywhere near here. He should have left town to stay with his brother.

…But he was here now, and Rook couldn’t shake the thought that they might never see each other again. He wordlessly offered his hand. Simon’s smaller one slipped into it readily and gave him a squeeze.

There was no one else around. The streets were still, and Rook acted on impulse. He swept Simon into a tight hug, pulling him close. Simon let out a faint startled noise, but then embraced him quickly. They clung to each other for a long moment before Rook let go and stepped back, averting his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“For what?” Simon asked a little breathlessly, reaching up to touch his cheek.

“I… I don’t want to… leave.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified for you,” Simon murmured, reaching up to cup Rook’s face in both hands. “Just… promise you’ll come back?”

Their eyes met, and Rook couldn’t look away. “I… you know I can’t… promise anything.” Simon’s face fell a little, and he pressed on. “But… as long as there is breath in my body, I’ll do everything I can to return to you.”

A smile spread over Simon’s face, and he pulled Rook’s head down just a bit, tilting his face up to brush their lips together. “Good,” he breathed. “I’ll be here waiting for you.”

Rook’s lips twitched, his jaw relaxed. He gently ran shaky fingers through Simon’s hair. “Then how could I stay away? I – I will come back. I swear I will come back to you.”

It probably wasn’t wise to enter such a dangerous situation with his foremost thoughts being of the softness and warmth of Simon’s lips, of his hands, of his eyes, his smile, his words… just… him. These were distractions that he couldn’t afford if he was to have any hope of facing down Amanda and coming out on top. But they also buoyed his spirits like nothing ever had in his life. He would face the queen, and he would come back to that softness.

For now though, his icy façade would have to protect him again.

Rook strode out across the border, nodding to the guards as he went. He knew Markus and Josh were watching from one of the watchtowers, and that Simon would be watching from as close as he could get. Obviously the entire Eastern Army was watching, as well as the queen. No one stopped him as he approached, though the troops fell silent in a wave. There were whispers and a jeer here and there, but he paid them no mind. They were still just an annoyance, not his primary objective.

Amanda’s tent looked like a rose bud. Aside from fitting with her aesthetic, it was designed to catch or divert enemy fire. Rook knew the protective spells on it were strong. He stopped a few meters away.

“Come out and speak to me,” he demanded harshly.

The flap rippled and Amanda herself pulled it open. She was slim and elegant, and almost looked fragile, though he knew that that was a deception.

“Reaver,” she greeted him softly. “You’ve returned to us. Won’t you come inside?”

“I will speak to you out here,” he reiterated.

“Very well,” she sighed, and stepped out completely. Her flowing gown glittered with enchantments – too many for him to recognize without devoting all his attention to it.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Connor to step out behind her and fall into a resting guard stance behind her right shoulder. He eyed his brother, who returned his gaze with equal uncertainty.

“I wasn’t aware of your… aspirations to take down our enemies,” Amanda murmured, glancing over Rook’s shoulder.

“I have no such aspirations,” he said flatly, instantly knowing what was going on, why she’d agreed to come so easily. “I want this conflict to end. We can’t continue to throw the lives of our own people away in the process of trying to destroy our neighbors.”

She tilted her head slightly. “’We,’ Reaver?”

“Yes. We. You and I both know our parts in this.” He didn’t look at Connor.

“Hm.” She examined her nails, rubbing two fingers together. “I didn’t think you of all people would give in to that sort of manipulation… but I’m sure we can fix that.”

“I’m warning you,” he said flatly. “Leave me alone. Leave this land alone. If you can’t learn to be content with what you have –“

“What will you do then?” she asked mildly. “Would you strike down your own mother?”

“Would you turn your own son into a weapon to be used?” he responded quietly.

“Tell me… where did you get all these ideas that you are the victim here?” she asked, frowning slightly. “I always raised you to be strong, to accept responsibility. I’m not sure where I’ve failed you.”

Rook tensed more with every word, and he could feel the crackling of power in his joints. He forced himself to take a deep, slow breath. “I’m done being what you raised me to be. I called you here to tell you to let me go. Once and for all.”

“Is that what you told your new friends? Markus? All the innocent people of this town?” She smiled thinly. “Oh, Reaver… you wouldn’t really trust so easily, would you?”

He’d been so sure of himself before. But he hadn’t been face to face with the queen in months, and… he’d never directly opposed her before. He’d known it wouldn’t be easy, but hadn’t expected the cold dread that weighed down his limbs. 

“Not to mention, do you think they trust you?” Her voice grew silky and soft. “After all you’ve done? Even now, you’ve called down an army upon them, haven’t you?”

“I could have killed them any time I wanted to,” he snapped. “They know I won’t.”

“They know,” she repeated. “Do they? How long will it take for them to stab you in the back, just as you’re doing to your own mother?”

“Please,” he said, keeping his voice firm. “We… can be a stronger nation with trade partners than… a conquered population. Or lifeless destruction. We don’t have to keep dong this.” His eyes flicked to Connor. The elder brother’s face had always been more expressive, but now his expression was flat and blank. He was watching the queen, but just for a split second his eyes flitted up to meet Rook’s cold stare. They revealed nothing, and Rook’s heart sank a little.

Amanda’s eyes, on the other hand, held great pity. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, taking a step towards him. “Sorry you lost your way.”

Like a snake, her hand struck out to grab his arm. If he hadn’t been distracted by Connor he would have seen it coming. He tried to yank away, his power crackling out from each joint. Hers flowed smoothly through her, unyielding, unrelenting.

No one but Connor, and perhaps a few others with greater magical talents, could see the clash, but waves of power radiated off both Rook and Amanda, expanding, crashing into each other. Even to those without magic, there was a sickening rippling of the air. Both stood firm.

“I see now that I was wrong to give you so much free rein. My mistake has cost both our nations too much.” Her voice was steady, and pitched to carry.

“Stop,” he growled through clenched teeth, though he was beginning to tremble.

“You’ve betrayed us all, Reaver. I can’t let that stand.”

He was struggling against her grip, power crackling wildly, but she didn’t seem to be affected.

“Perhaps you’re right. When I offer your remains as a peace offering to mark the end of the conflict, our neighbors will welcome me with open arms.”

“That’s –“ Connor spoke up, but Amanda cut him off.

“You are here to observe, nothing more,” she snapped. “You have nothing to contribute here.”

It would be his only chance, and he threw everything he had into striking at her while she was distracted. She rocked back, but caught herself easily. Her eyes narrowed.

“That was a mistake, Reaver.”

He had no time to react before agony shot through his veins, power sparking and burning his joints, he could feel his body tearing apart and his life force draining out. He crumpled to the ground, unable to even cry out as his vision faded –

There was a jolt of even worse pain somehow, and he was left gasping for breath. Spots swam before his eyes as his vision slowly cleared.

Amanda lay collapsed on the ground, a long ceremonial blade on the ground beside her. Blood spurted from her neck, and there was an open wound on the back of her head. Connor stood frozen, staring down at them.

“I… I couldn’t… let her kill you,” he breathed, starting to shake. “Did you mean what you said?”

Rook’s head was pounding, and it was hard to think. He could hear shouting in the distance. “Yes. …Which part?”

“Any of it. Making peace with the West, stopping the conflict.”

He nodded, hoping that might be easier than speech. It wasn’t, and he quickly stopped.

“Did you leave to… to take the West?” Connor asked slowly. “Or to join them against us?”

“I didn’t… mean to do either. I just… just wanted to leave. You know… she told me I would have to kill you if you ever betrayed her.”

The two brothers eyed each other cautiously. Rook looked away first.

“I wasn’t willing to do that.”

“We haven’t spoken in years,” Connor murmured. “We were never… on great terms.”

“No. But I don’t want you dead. I… I refuse to be… part of that.”

Connor knelt down and offered his hand, still shaking a little and splattered with blood. Rook stared at it, his head still swimming, then clasped it and allowed Connor to help him to his feet. Connor continued to hold onto his arm as they looked out across the sea of armed troops. Markus’s forces had appeared at the border, nervous and ready.

“The queen is dead,” Connor called, his voice carrying over them all. He glanced at his brother, then over at Markus. “We are here to… talk with our Western neighbors. To try to reach an agreement.” He squared his shoulders and turned to face the queen’s top generals and mages. “Any not willing to follow me in this endeavor may leave now.”

Eyes widened, there was shuffling, eyes cast down, muttering here and there. No one left.

“Very well then.” Connor turned back and lowered his voice. “Are you able to walk?”

“Yes.” Rook pulled gently out of Connor’s grip, though he was leaning heavily on his walking stick. The two stepped around Amanda’s body, which was beginning to crumble already, and headed for the border. By the time they reached Markus Rook was exhausted, but he felt a little more stable.

Simon darted out across the line, despite North’s shout and attempts to grab him, and wrapped Rook in a careful hug. Rook waved off Connor’s hands and embraced Simon.

“I thought – I thought you were dead, are you all right?” Simon gasped.

“I thought so too,” Rook murmured, clinging to him tightly. “I’m fine, thanks to my brother.” He turned to meet Connor’s bemused gaze. “This is Connor… the king of the Eastern Empire.”

“That’ll take some getting used to,” Connor muttered with a rueful smile.

“And this is Simon.” Rook paused, looking down at him. “…He is everything to me.”

Simon blushed, and Connor softly said, “Oh.”

“…And this is Markus and his chief advisor, Josh,” Rook continued, curling his arm a little further around Simon as the two approached cautiously, flanked by their troops.

“It’s an honor to finally meet,” Connor said solemnly, offering his hand. “We have a lot to discuss.”

Markus smiled guardedly and shook his hand. “The honor is mine.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon writes to his brother.  
Rook talks to his brother.  
Connor has been talking to Markus.  
North talks to her friends.  
And Simon and Rook enjoy a quiet moment together.

_Dear Daniel,_

_I hope you’re doing well. It sounds like you have some very bright, energetic students this year! The drawing you sent of your cottage is beautiful, I love the garden you’ve started. How is your friend you mentioned last time? I hope he’s doing better._

_You’ve no doubt heard all the news by now: The queen in the east is dead, and the new king is working hard undoing the damage she did. He’s quite nice, actually._

_Markus is setting up a permanent headquarters here in town, though I think he’d like to return to the Manfred estate sometimes._

_You should probably hear this from me so it’s not a shock later: If you haven’t heard, after the Reaver disappeared, he turned up on my doorstep in bad shape, so of course I took him in. I didn’t know who he was at first, but I think you know what I would have done if I had. He’s taken the name Rook, and he’s a big help around the inn (we have so much business now that the war is over!). He rarely uses any magic these days. He’s adjusting to living a normal life, and it isn’t always easy, but he’s making great strides. He’s kind and thoughtful and sincere, and beginning to develop a sense of humor you’d appreciate. He tries to stay out of politics entirely, but both Connor = his brother, the king – and Markus keep trying to get him involved. I don’t think it’s always intentional, they just value his opinion and experience. Rook is more interested in creating than destroying, and it’s like he’s living for the first time. I love him more every day._

_I hope you’ll visit soon, I want you two to meet. As busy as we are, I’ll always have a room for you. I taught Rook to make the shepherd’s pie we used to eat so often, and if I know when you’re coming, we can make that. If not, dinner will be a surprise!_

_North sends her love and would love to see you too. Her exact words were, ‘Tell that moron I need another chance to trip him in the mud.’ She’s doing well. Has she written to you at all? I know she prefers to talk face to face._

_I miss you, and hope to hear from you soon. So much has happened, and it would be good to be together again._

_With love from all of us here, especially me,_

_~ Simon_

“Talks with Markus are going well – he’s being pushed into a more official leadership role rather against his will.” Connor smiled slightly. “He’s rising to the occasion masterfully, though.”

“I’m aware,” Rook said patiently. “Did you get that new wolfhound you were talking about?”

Connor’s face fell. “No… She’s just a puppy, and I hoped it would be just the push Sumo needed to be more active and playful… but he hated it. I had to send her back, I couldn’t do that to poor Sumo.”

Rook smiled slightly. “What did your kennel master think of her? Hank, you said?”

“He said she was a fine dog, ideal for her age and breed, but that Sumo wouldn’t put up with her chewing on his legs for too much longer before he bit off her face.”

“I have to say, I sympathize,” Rook muttered. “Are… are you doing well? Keeping your head above water with all the work? Taking care of yourself?”

“I’m… doing my best. I dismiss someone every week, but it’s slowed down quite a bit since the beginning.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I might as well just get rid of them all, but I hate to not give them a chance to change.”

“You’re too trusting,” Rook said flatly. It sounded too harsh to his ears, so he added, “…I admire that.”

The wide brown eyes took on a mischievous gleam. “I suppose a marriage to an innkeeper wouldn’t hold the political clout to bind our lands together. It’s a shame, because having people like Markus and Josh to rely on personally would be fantastic.”

Rook’s steely gaze bored through Connor. He didn’t speak.

“Sorry, I – that crossed a line, I’m sorry. I was joking. …Though sometimes I think it would make life easier.” Connor smiled at him a little uncomfortably. “And how _is_ your shining beacon of light?”

“Stop,” Rook muttered. “Simon’s doing very well. The treaty is making his dream a reality, business has increased dramatically.”

“I hope you find time to spend with each other.” Connor’s smile was fond and a little wistful.

“Yes,” Rook mumbled, reddening and looking away. “He… wanted to invite you to dinner one night. If you can find the time.”

“I –“ Connor opened his mouth, then closed it again. His shoulders drooped. “I’d like that, and I’ll… let you know when I can drop by. It might not be for a while.”

“Well, you’re welcome any time.” Rook paused. “I realize your position is vital to the Empire, but… be sure you take time for yourself as well. You can’t rule if you don’t keep yourself in good condition.”

“You’re one to talk,” Connor snorted.

“It isn’t my strong suit, I know. …But it’s something I’m learning, and I hope you are as well.”

“Thank you,” the elder brother murmured with a faint smile. “I’ll try.”

“So when are you marrying into the royal family?” North asked, stealing a smear of icing from a cake and licking it off her finger.

“We haven’t – hey!” Simon pulled the cake out of her reach. “We haven’t really talked about that.”

“Would that make you a prince too?”

“No, it doesn’t work that way. I – if it happened – I’d be the prince’s consort. He never officially abdicated, and now Connor won’t let him. …But I would only be a prince if the country accepted me as that, and things are still kind of tense there even if they’re worlds better than they were.”

North shook her head, taking a handful of candied nuts behind Simon’s back. “Go hang out with them for a day or two, they’ll love you,” she said dismissively. “You’ll be a prince in no time.”

“That’s not… I mean, I’m not really interested in that. And Rook avoids that kind of thing too, it all makes him uncomfortable.”

“He’s just an uncomfortable guy,” North said with a shrug. “Deal with it. You’re still on a first-name basis with the king.”

“Habit,” Simon mumbled. “Rook does it, so I’ve picked it up too.”

“If he’s gonna be sticking around, he should try to hang out and talk to the locals more. …I mean more than you, me, Markus, and Josh. People still look at him like he’s about to explode.”

“That’s… he’s not really one for… mingling. But he’s trying to be more of a presence here. Cooking and serving food and greeting people. He’s getting better, it just takes practice. …And Connor and Markus tried to make him the official liaison between nations, which he declined, so instead they made him the unofficial one. And he knows, and he hates it.” Simon chuckled. “But it does mean learning to talk to people in different situations. He’s… still not entirely comfortable with it, but it’s something he really wants to get better at.”

“He’s okay,” North admitted. “I was ready to break his kneecaps at first, but he’s not so bad.”

Simon laughed. “Please don’t break his kneecaps. He’d just keep walking around and do more damage.”

Rook slipped in quietly through the dining area, and North looked up.

“Hey! We were just discussing whether I should break your kneecaps.”

“We were _not_,” Simon said adamantly.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.” Rook’s face was entirely serious.

“Simon’d just whine about it and probably try to carry you everywhere,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Exactly.” Rook rubbed his hands gently up over Simon’s shoulders. “Please don’t trouble him.”

“You’re both ridiculous,” Simon huffed, grinning and leaning back into Rook’s touch.

“Connor sends his greetings, and hopes to stop by to visit at some point.”

“What’s he like?” North asked. “Weird and formal like you?”

“Not quite as much – he’s far more comfortable with… people, and speaking. My combat skills exceed his, but he is better at…” Rook trailed off thoughtfully. “…at talking to people, understanding them. At being a human being, I sometimes think.”

“Not that last bit,” Simon murmured, reaching up to squeeze his hands. “And you’re getting better at the rest. You’re too hard on yourself.”

Rook pulled Simon gently into a hug. Words were difficult to find, but this at least he knew was good.

“Okay, you’re being sickening, I’m leaving,” North announced.

“You don’t want to stay for dinner?” Simon asked, melting into Rook’s arms.

“Nah, not tonight. See you two later.” She waved carelessly as she left.

“Does… this make her uncomfortable?” Rook asked quietly, tensing slightly.

“No. …Her shoulders get stiff and her voice gets… it sounds clipped and harsh, when she’s uncomfortable. She’s just teasing us, don’t worry,” Simon murmured, reaching back to clumsily touch Rook’s face.

Rook nodded, leaning in to rest his cheek against Simon’s. “I’d like her to… approve of me.”

Simon chuckled. “She does, she just doesn’t show it the same way most people do. But this is really friendly, for her. Um… Daniel’s the same way sometimes. Or he can be really warm and sweet. It kind of depends on how he’s feeling.”

“Have you heard back from him yet?”

“No, my letter probably just reached him in the past day or so. I’m hoping he has a school break coming up soon so he can come visit.”

“I hope he likes me,” Rook murmured, hugging Simon a little tighter.

“How could he not? You’re wonderful.”

“You’re blinded by your feelings,” Rook murmured into his neck.

“Mm, maybe, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Simon turned his head to kiss Rook’s cheekbone. “When you relax and let people see who you really are… you’re easy to love.”

“Now you’re _absolutely_ blinded by your feelings,” Rook muttered, blushing deeply and closing his eyes.

“What makes you think you’d be hard to love?” Simon asked, leaning his face into Rook’s. “You’ve made nothing but friends and allies since you got here, haven’t you?”

“Because of my magical and political power, yes.”

“Okay, that’s the allies. How about the friends? Me, North. Josh.”

He frowned slightly. “I don’t think Josh qualifies.”

“He played chess with you, and I’ve never seen him so involved in a game. He invited you to try those other games I’ve never heard of next time. Next time means he wants to spend time with you socially.”

“…I suppose.” They were quiet for a moment, just enjoying each other’s warmth, before he spoke again. “We’re friends, then, you and I?”

Simon gently pulled away so he could face Rook. “We absolutely are. Um… but I think we’re… maybe something else too. I’d… I hope so, anyway. …Being friends doesn’t mean you can’t be other things too.”

Rook looked at him for a long moment. His expressions were still sometimes hard to read, but Simon could see uncertainty behind the flat stare. “I… have no experience in that area,” he murmured. “Either friendship or… anything else. Are you – forgive me if this… shouldn’t be mentioned, but are you talking about… a romantic relationship?”

“It probably should be mentioned,” Simon murmured, blushing and chuckling self-consciously. “We should… it would help to be sure what we’re talking about, I think.”

“I agree,” Rook said, visibly relaxing a bit. “Is… is that what you were talking about?”

Simon’s eyes darted up to meet Rook’s. “Yes.”

The fleeting shadow of a smile flitted over Rook’s face. “Good,” he murmured softly. “I… I don’t know much about any of this. I know I say that a lot, I feel like my knowledge base is entirely made up of useless things. But I want to learn, and… to get better.”

“I’m not exactly an expert either. But I like the idea of learning together.” Simon smiled back, stepping forward to lean into Rook’s shoulder. “At our own pace. …We can ignore what North says.”

“And Connor.”

Simon laughed. “Him too?”

“He… was talking about marriage alliances today.”

“As if I matter at all!”

Rook pulled him closer. “You mean everything,” he reminded him softly. “And I don’t want to be a political alliance. I want you. I want… warmth and comfort and… quiet moments. Peace. This.”

“I want this too,” Simon sighed, leaning into Rook. “Just you.”

“Just you,” Rook echoed into Simon’s hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this, it's been so much fun to write! Best comments on this ever!  
Also, I wanted to share my two prompts I took inspiration from for this story:
> 
> ‘You’re a commoner who can’t magic for shit and I’m one of the king’s own sorcerers’ AU  
and  
‘The fuckup of an accomplished mage family’ AU

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting! Visit me on Tumblr at [Anomalous Appliances.](http://anomalous-appliances.tumblr.com)


End file.
